Eight Seconds
by deepwater1978
Summary: It took only eight seconds for him to realize that his like for her had turned into love. Eight life-changing seconds. It was also the exact length of time it took to lose her.
1. Chapter 1

_Year 2000_

"It is nice that your boss wanted to have us over," Elena Gilbert murmured to her father John who was sitting next to her, hands on the steering wheel as they drove through a new town they were supposed to call home.

After the divorce, John Gilbert wanted a fresh start, and that meant getting as far away from his wife Isobel as possible. If he was disappointed he only managed to get a job a mere four hours away, he never mentioned it. But he assured Elena it was a good job, one that paid well. And although the town was a lot smaller than where she had spent her early years, he said it was a good place to live out the rest of her childhood until she eventually left him for greener pastures—college and such. Those were his words, not hers. Besides, she was only twelve at the time. Old enough to have an opinion, but still too young to care either way.

"So what is your boss like? It is Giuseppe, right?"

John nodded as he checked his side mirror before changing lanes. "He seems nice enough. He is smart, too. And his wife is beautiful. Her name is Lillian."

John Gilbert was one of those men who seemed like they never aged. Only he wasn't ever young looking. What stood out the most was the way he always looked worried—as if the world was going to end and he was the only one in on the secret. When things got worse with his wife, the worry turned to stress, turned to fear, and slowly turned to acceptance. Elena believed that for him the acceptance was the worst part of all—knowing and believing that it was just him and his daughter against the world. Then he got offered this job. She didn't think she had seen him smile since before The Breaking Point: when Isobel threw a chair at his head.

"Where was he from?" she asked. "Giuseppe doesn't sound like American."

"The Salvatore family originated from Italy."

"Oh."

He nudged her side with his elbow and smiled down at his daughter. "Guess how many kids they have?" he asked.

Elena shrugged, pushing aside her thoughts. "How many?"

"Guess, Elena," he said, his voice filled with anticipation.

"I don't know. Four?"

He shook his head.

Elena sat higher in her seat, her eyes wide, and asked, "Six?"

He laughed. "They have two boys – Damon and Stefan. Damon is the oldest. He is the same age as you. Stefan is a year younger than you. Giuseppe also has a younger brother, Zach. Zach has a daughter who is ten. See, Elena? You will fit right in."

Elena looked down at her flip-flops, denim shorts and T-shirt that had a picture of a cat and the words Look at meow. "Maybe I should have worn a pretty dress or something. Tried to impress them, you know?"

It took a while for him to answer, and when he did, the words resonated so loudly that even now, when she was an adult, she still could hear them loud and clear. "You impress people with your mind. With your kind heart and humble attitude. And while you are a beautiful girl, your looks or the way you dress shouldn't be the reason people are impressed by you. And when you are older and boys start to notice you, I want you to remember that. Because if it is only your looks they are attracted to, then they are not the one for you, Elena. You can do better. You will do better."

That speech alone was reason enough as to why Elena had chosen to move away with him instead of staying with her mother.

"Unless it is Justin Timberlake," Elena joked, trying to hide her true reaction to his words. "Then he can like me for my looks, right?"

John chuckled under his breath. "You can totally do better than Justin Timberlake."

"I think not!" she said seriously.

He laughed, a sound so pure that at that moment she almost hated her mother for trying so hard to take that away from him. Yeah, she was young, but she wasn't blind. Or deaf. And although she was sure she didn't know everything that went on with them, she knew enough.

Elena went back to thinking about Giuseppe and Lillian and their f children. "Dad…"—she looked at him sideways—"are you sure you want this job? These people might be in some weird sister-wife cult. You never know…one day you are working construction for him and the next you are asking people to drink the Kool-Aid."

John playfully rolled his eyes. "I should monitor your TV watching more. Enough true crime shows for you." He slowed the car to a stop. "I think we are here." Then he leaned over the steering wheel to look at the number on the mailbox. It was basically all one could see from the street. That, and a long gravel driveway surrounded by endless trees. "Yeah. This is it," he said to himself, turning the car to creep slowly between the open gates on either side of the driveway. "This is a beautiful house," he whispered.

Her eyes widened. "Wow."

It was as if time slowed when the Salvatore house came into view. Beautiful, white two-story house, dark shutters on the windows and a wraparound porch. There was also a detached garage with an apartment above, and the yard was kept, neat and trimmed to perfection. It was the kind of house one would see in magazines. Elena guessed they shouldn't have been surprised considering Giuseppe Salvatore owned the largest construction company in Mystic Falls, but still…she had never seen anything so grand before. At least not in real life.

A smaller picket fence surrounded the house, probably to keep their children within viewing distance on their hundred plus acres of property. Lake not included.

As they got closer, people started to appear from what seemed like everywhere. One. Two. Three. Four….Elena caught her breath and her fingers fidgeting with her top and the only thing that went through her mind was that she should have worn a pretty dress.

Her father wasn't kidding when he said that his boss was tall. He was also wide. Not overweight, just large…and extremely intimidating, although Elena doubt he meant to be. He just had this deep voice that seemed to echo around him.

Giuseppe introduced John as—his new foreman—and Elena to his family while they stood in their front yard. There were a lot of names and a lot of head nods mumbled between those names.

"You are such a pretty girl, Elena," Lillian said. The sun beamed down on her, making her white dress pop and her dark hair glow. Lillian Salvatore looked like an angel, and Elena's chest tightened as she tried not to miss her mother. She added, "You will be going to the same school as Damon and you will be in the same class together once the summer is over."

"Isn't that great?" John said, nodding in Elena's direction.

Elena forced as smile. "Great."

A boy with dark hair and bright blue-grey eyes smiled at her. "I'm Damon, Stefan's brother. Don't worry, I will look after you."

 _Oh crap, he is unbelievable cute,_ Elena thought.

She was twelve and he was also twelve. And he was cute.

He was cute and he was looking at her.

"I will introduce you to Newton," Damon said, shaking his baseball mitt from his hand. Elena watched it fall to the perfectly green grass beneath their feet, and then looked up at him. He was still smiling. Still cute. "You will like him."

"Thank you." Elena swore she had never felt lamer in her entire life. _Who is Newton?_ she thought.

Then a scruffy grey dog of uncertain ancestry lunged forward to greet Damon.

"This is Newton." Damon leaned down to scratch the dog affectionately behind the ears. "We have got company."

She looked down at Newton and held out her hand. "Hello, Newton."

Newton stared at her for a moment longer, his gaze unflinching. Evidently concluding that she was neither a threat nor prey, he sniffed her fingers. Satisfied, he sat back. Gingerly, she scratched him behind his ears. Newton chuffed a bit and licked her hand.

"He likes you," Stefan said. "Mostly he ignores people. He only likes Damon."

"Newton always terrifies me," a young girl wearing a high ponytail said nervously.

Damon glared. "Generally speaking, Newton doesn't bite, Sarah."

Sarah made a face at him before turning her attention to Stefan. "Let's go play baseball, Stefan."

"Sure," Stefan said.

"Where did you get him?" Elena asked Damon as she got to her feet.

"The animal shelter." Damon gave Newton another affectionate scratch behind his ears. "It was love at first sight, wasn't it, Newton?"

"Don't forget you refused to leave the animal shelter until we got him for you, son," Giuseppe said with a chuckle.

Lillian smiled. "I like having a dog in the house. He keeps an eye on those boys."

"That's a fact," John said. "I have always wanted to get a puppy for Elena but her mother is allergic to furs."

"You can play with Newton anytime you want. He is a really smart dog," Damon said cheerfully. "Plus he likes you, Elena."

Giuseppe motioned to his house. "I will get started on the grill out back."

"I will check on the pie," Lillian said.

"Sounds great." John squeezed Elena's shoulder and followed after him.

Elena started to go with him, but a hand landed on her arm, and she turned to Damon who was smiling wider, looking cuter. "You want to see something cool?" he asked.

He took her to his secret hideout; somewhere far away from the picket fence, but not far enough that they couldn't see the house. Newton bounded ahead and headed towards Damon's secret hideout with the ease of a creature who relies on a variety of senses to get around.

Why Damon showed his hideout to her when it was supposed to be a secret, Elena had no idea. But she didn't care. It was a space between two trees and an old blanket hung between the trunks, hidden beneath a bunch of leafy branches. "This is cool," she said.

"Just wait." He cleared the branches and pointed to a tin box in the corner of the space.

"What is it?"

"A secret stash," he whispered, looking around him. Elena did the same. Honestly, she had no idea what she was doing. She just liked being with Damon because he was cute.

He got down on his knees, dirt flying up from the impact. "Come on," he said, waving a hand at her while picking up the box with the other.

Elena got down on her knees next to him, their arms touching while he lifted the lid. "Dammit!" he spat.

"What is wrong?"

"Stefan," he said simply.

"What about Stefan?"

He shook his head as he pulled out a single Snickers bar. "He must have stolen the others. There is only one here." He held it out to her. "You have it."

Elena shook her head. "No, it is yours."

"But you are my guest. My friend."

Hiding her smile, Elena grabbed the chocolate from him, unwrapped it, broke it in half and pulled it apart. Then she handed him his half. "Friends share," she told him.

Damon smiled back at her. Newton positioned himself at Damon's feet, looking expectant.

"You know you can't have chocolate, buddy," Damon said to Newton.

"Newton can't have chocolate?" Elena asked curiously.

"Dogs can't have chocolate," he explained. "They can't digest chocolate. A vet at the animal shelter told me that."

"Oh."

They ate in silence.

"My brother is so dumb," Damon said after a while. "The only things in here were Snickers, and he is allergic to nuts."

A giggle burst out of Elena. "Then why would he take them?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "Because he is Stefan."

Lillian called for them a few minutes later, and Damon stood quickly, wiping his chocolate-and-dirt-covered hands across his Superman logo t-shirt. Then he held his hand out for Elena. "Ready?"

Elena took his hand; the first boy she had ever been nervous to hold hands with. He released it as soon as she was on her feet. "Race to the fence?" he asked.

After looking down at her clothes, Elena shrugged. "Okay."

"You are going to join us, aren't you, buddy?" he said to Newton before turning back to Elena. "Ready?" He had the sprinter pose down, even back then.

She copied his stance and ignored the fact that he was in sneakers and she was in flip-flops. "Ready."

"Go!"

Newton won.

She was not bad. At least she won Damon.

Damon puffed out a breath as he took the paper plate from his mother. "She left you in the dust, son," Lillian teased.

Elena giggled.

Damon said, "That will be the last time." And it was.

Lillian laughed and ruffled his hair before handing Elena her plate. Then she looked between Damon and Elena a long moment before she grinned at them. "Damon and Elena." Her smile grew wider with every second. She pointed to Damon and then shifted her gaze to Elena. "You two look so good together. When both of you are together, I'm going to call you two Delena."

Elena raised her brows. Delena? She glanced over at Damon. Just in time to catch him grinning.

"Delena," he repeated. "Delena means Damon and Elena. I like it."

* * *

 **This is my new Delena story. Got this inspiration from a close friend. We always take things and people for granted, don't we? Tomorrow is not a promise to everyone. Don't take anything for granted. You won't know how long you will have them and don't make yourself regret.**

 **Enjoy:)**

 **And thank you for all the support and kind comments for my previous DE story "Kiss Me or Kill Me". Please make sure you check out those amazing writers like Salvatoreboys4ever, scarlett2112, delenadreams, Rachel3003, TheLittle MissVixen, VitsAsh etc.**


	2. Chapter 2

"It looked like you got on well with Ele. You like her?" Lillian asked, her hands and fingers working frantically on whatever knitting project she was working on while sitting on the couch opposite Damon. It had been more than a few hours since Elena and John had left, and the house was a rare kind of quiet. Stefan was reading a book by the fireplace. Newton was stretched out on his belly on the rug, nose on his paws, dozing.

Damon feigned disinterest, kicked out his legs and got more comfortable on Giuseppe's recliner. "By the way, her name is Elena, not Ele."

Lillian smiled. "Well, I think I'm going to call her Ele. I like it better. It suits her."

Damon scoffed. "You can't just go changing people's names, Mum."

"Why not, Bobby Jo?" she sang.

"Who the hell is Bobby Jo?"

She laughed under her breath. "You are now."

He laughed with her. "I think I prefer Damon."

"You still didn't answer my question, Bobby Jo."

"What question?"

"You like her?"

"We are Delena."

"So, you like being Delena, Bobby Jo."

He ignored her use of his new name. "She is cool."

"And pretty," Lillian added.

He pretended to wipe his mouth with his forearm, hoping it would somehow hide his blush. "She is cool," he repeated.

"Mmm-hmm…" She tried to hide her smile, but Damon didn't need to see it to hear it. "I was thinking—"

"Uh-oh. This can't be good."

"Smartass." She grinned. "John mentioned that Elena would be staying home alone for a couple of days while he works, just until he can decide if she is old enough to stay on her own for that long a period. But if you don't mind, I thought I might invite her to spend the summer with us. It might be nice to have an extra hand around here."

"So, you are using her for child labour?"

She laughed at that. "I didn't think of it that way. But I don't know. It would be nice to have a girl around, and besides, I think we would be good for each other. I just don't want your mum to cramp your style by asking your crush to come over."

"She is not my crush," Damon said. Way too loud. Way too obvious.

Lillian didn't respond to that. Instead she said, "She kicked your ass in that race."

He lifted his chin. "Like I care."

"About what? Her spending the summer with us or her kicking your ass?"

"Neither."

Lies.

All lies.

Damon set his alarm and woke up early the next morning. It was barely light out, and Stefan wasn't even up yet. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, he made his way downstairs and to the kitchen where he left a note for whoever would find it.

 _Gone for a run._

 _Won't leave our property._

 _Don't drink all the milk, Stefan.._

 _Damon._

And with that, he slipped on his sneakers by the front door, tied them extra tight, and he ran. He ran and he ran and he ran until his legs burned worse than his lungs and by the time he was back at the house, his T-shirt was covered in sweat and the rest of his family were all sitting around the kitchen table.

"Did you speak to Elena's dad?" he huffed out, taking his seat opposite Stefan.

"Good morning to you, too." Lillian ruffled his sweaty hair and poured him the few drops of milk leftover in the carton.

He glared at Stefan, who gave him an innocent grin.

He pushed the glass of milk away and opted for water instead. "So, is she coming?" he asked Lillian.

"Why so eager?" she teased.

"I want to race her again."

"Right. Well, it is early and John doesn't start work until tomorrow, but I will call later today."

"Call now."

"Damon."

"Please?"

She looked at her watch. "I will wait another hour, okay?"

"Fine."

"Damon and Elena, sitting in a tree…" Stefan sang.

He threw his brother a look. "Shut up!"

"Enough," Giuseppe warned.

"Sorry," Damon said and started drinking his water.

Lillian set a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of Damon, squeezing his shoulder as she did—a silent acknowledgment that she had seen what he had done and even though Stefan was the one who started it, she noticed and she appreciated it.

The thing about Stefan, although a little annoying, was that he was Damon's only brother. His only brother. And he would look out for his brother, no matter what happened.

He ate his breakfast slowly, so slowly it was almost a chore, and he kept his eye on the clock. Seconds ticked by, turned into minutes and by the time his body had finally stopped sweating, only fifteen minutes had passed. He sighed loudly, annoyed.

Lillian must have noticed because she said, "If you are that desperate, you could call her yourself."

Stefan chimed, "Who? Your girlfriend?"

Damon glared at him again. "Shut. Up!"

"Damon," Giuseppe warned. Then added. "Shut up, Stefan."

Damon stood up. "I'm going for a run."

"Again?" Lillian sighed. "Damon, your stomach hasn't settled yet."

"I will be okay."

"Wait five minutes."

He sat back down.

Each ticking of the second hand on the clock felt like torture. Damon didn't know why he wanted to run so bad. Why he felt it necessary to beat Elena in a race, but his twelve-year-old brain said that he absolutely had to. So as soon as five minutes passed, he shot to his feet. Newton also appeared in the hall, looking hopeful.

"What the hell, you might as well come, too," he said.

Newton made for the door.

Damon didn't run far. His parents had set up boundaries on their land that they all had to stick to so that if anything happened, they wouldn't have to search far for the children. But still, he ran to one border, then to the next, and the next, and the next, again and again, until the burning set in.

He looked at Newton. "Man, I must have really wanted to impress her." Then he shook his head. "No, I mean beat her."

Newton cocked his head and looked intelligent. It was an expression he did very well.

Giuseppe's car was gone when he got back to the house and Lillian was sitting on the porch, cordless phone to her ear. "Sure, Elena, it is no problem at all."

Damon stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows raised as he tried to catch his breath. "What did he say?" he mouthed.

Lillian raised a hand between them.

He stomped his foot. "What did he say?" he asked again.

"Okay, I will see both you and Elena tomorrow morning."

Damon pressed his lips together to hide his smile.

As soon as Lillian hung up, she looked over at Damon and grinned from ear-to-ear, her eyes bright against the sun and her long dark hair flying with the wind. Up until he met Elena, Damon swore his mother was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. "So, she is coming over tomorrow for a date," she teased. Again. "Oh my…Damon Salvatore, what are you going to wear? Maybe that ugly sweater your aunt Judy bought you for Christmas? Or maybe that hideous plaid suit she got you for your birthday. Maybe I will just dig out that picture of you as a baby when you decided to go digging around your poopy diaper and eat—"

"Mum, stop!" Damon yelled, but he was laughing.

* * *

 **Thank you for the support and kind reviews from my readers. Hopefully you gals/guys will enjoy this DE story. Initially I didn't plan to add Newton in this story but after visiting my cousin and saw her dog, I have decided to give Damon a pet:)**

 **I really appreciate the support from my wonderful readers. Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

His mother used to tell him that he loved number, that ever since he could count, he used the skill on everything. How many peas were on his plate, the steps from the front door to the fence. Obviously, as Damon got older and his strides got longer, the steps lessened, but still, he counted. Then he learned how to tell time. He counted that, too. How many seconds it would take for his mother's morning coffee to brew, how many times droplets of water leaked from the kitchen tap right after being shut off. The number of clicks per minute, per second, His mother's knitting needles clicked together. Two per second, that was how long his mother took. So, it was no surprise when he raced Elena, he counted. The first race, he counted his steps. The second, he counted the time.

He won both races, just so we're clear.

She was also wearing flip-flops, which he was sure didn't help. But if it was the reason he won, he wasn't going to mention it.

The first few days spent with Elena went by quickly. His mother called them play-dates. She also called them inseparable. Of course, they were Delena. Delena were inseparable.

Every morning Damon would wake up early and run, come home, have breakfast, and wait. John would drop Elena off, offer his mother money (to which she declined), then he and Elena would spend the day racing each other, the distance getting farther each time. On the fourth day, she wore sneakers. She still didn't win, but she was closer. No more than five strides behind him each time. The next day, while sitting out on the dock by the lake, their feet in the water, bodies sweating as they tried to catch their breaths, she asked why all they did was run. Damon didn't know what to say so he kept quiet. Telling her that he was trying to impress her would have made him a loser, and if she had to ask why then it probably wasn't working.

Elena looked out beyond the lake and towards the horizon, kicking her feet beneath the water. "Next week, if I bring my swimsuit, can we go in?"

"Next week?" His eyes snapped to hers. "You are not coming tomorrow?"

"It is the weekend. My dad is home."

"Oh." Damon was confused by the sudden ache in his chest. "So, I won't see you all weekend?"

"My dad and I are going to the hardware store to pick out paint for my new room. He said I could have the whole finished basement to myself. It has its own bathroom. How cool is that?"

"It is cool," he said. He almost offered to help just to be around with Elena more. But that would make him lame. And desperate. So he kept my mouth shut.

"Mum?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Damon sat on the couch next to Lillian. "I don't think Elena likes running," he told her.

"Well, yeah, I don't think many kids your age want to spend their summers chasing after a boy…,,,even if he is as handsome as you."

He stayed silent, his mind lost in thought until she stopped knitting and turned to him. "Maybe you guys should do something she likes. What is she into?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I never asked."

"Well, maybe you should, and that way you can split your time with the activities."

Damon picked up a random magazine off the coffee table and pretended to flip through it. "She is painting her room with her dad this weekend. You think I should call them and offer to help?"

"You can't. Mason is coming over for the weekend. You are camping out back. Don't you remember?"

"Oh yeah." After everything that had happened throughout the week, he had almost forgotten about Mason Lockwood—his best friend since first grade. "I forgot about Mason."

Lillian smiled, but it was sad. "Besides, I think maybe you should give the two of them the weekend. They have been through a lot, and this move was a big change for them. They need to spend some quality time together."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean they have been through a lot? Is Elena okay?"

"Oh, she is fine, Damon."

After a beat, he asked, "Do you know what happened? Why is it just her and John? Did something happen to her mum? I mean, did she die or something?"

"No, sweetheart." Lillian shook her head. "Some parents just don't end up together forever."

His mother's words started to worry Damon. "But you and Dad will, right?"

Lillian picked up her knitting needles, a wistfulness in her tone when she said, "Your dad and I are forever, Damon. Eternal. Like the rise and fall of the sun. I promise."

"Good. I'm glad her mum is not dead. I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to you." He kissed her cheek and stood. "Besides, you are the best mum I have ever had."

"I bet you say that to all your mums."

x x x

It was a Sunday night. Mason's parents had picked him up right after dinner, and Damon was cleaning the larger dishes in the sink when the home phone rang. Giuseppe mumbled something about telemarketers while Stefan walked past, pushed all the already dry dishes back into the sink water and shouted, "Stefan rules!"

"Stefan!" Damon yelled

Giuseppe picked him up, threw him over his shoulder and left the kitchen.

Lillian entered, cordless phone in hand, palm covering the receiver. "It is for you," she said to Damon, then lowered her voice. "It is Elena."

Damon snatched the phone from her and started running to his room. Twelve steps on the staircase and fourteen (eleven-year-old) steps to his room later, he was shutting the door behind him and trying to catch his breath. Not because he was exhausted, but because he was nervous. Slowly, he raised the phone to his ear. "Hey," he said.

"Hey, it is Elena."

Damon bit back a smile. "I know."

Even if she didn't introduce herself, he would know. He would recognize her voice anywhere.

"So how was your weekend?" she asked at the same time he said, "What colour did you paint your room?"

"Green," she said.

"Pretty good," he answered.

Then they both laughed.

"I don't really know why I called," she murmured. "I guess I'm just used to seeing you every day and I miss you."

"You do?"

"Is that lame?"

His heart skipped a beat. "No. It was weird not having you here."

"Yeah…so…"

"So…"

She asked, "What did you do over the weekend?"

"My best friend, Mason, was here."

"Your best friend?"

Damon smiled as he sat on the edge of his bed. "Mason has been my best friend since first grade."

"I see."

"I'm sorry I made you run the whole time you were here," he admitted. "You probably hate me."

"I'm at your house every day, Damon. I don't expect you to give up what you normally do just because I'm there. If I didn't want to hang out with you, I wouldn't have done it."

"What would you like to do, I mean, besides going swimming in our lake? Is there something else? We can do it. I don't mind."

She thought about this for a while, the static in the phone and the usual background noise of his family the only sounds he could hear. Finally, she said, "I like playgrounds,"

Damon laughed. He probably shouldn't have, but he did. "Aren't we a little old for playgrounds?"

"Name one time a playground hasn't been fun."

"True. There is one close by that Mum lets me and Stefan go to on our own."

"We could bring Newton. I like him. Well, maybe not Stefan. No offense…he is just so…"

"So Stefan?"

Elena giggled and he couldn't stop himself from grinning.

They spent three hours on the phone that night—longer than he had ever spent on the phone with any other girl, but not as long as he would spend with Elena in the future. He fell asleep with the phone to his ear—her light, quiet breaths lulling him to slumber, letting him know she had done the same.

And so without meaning to, without wanting to, he started to really like the girl who would become his best friend.

His confidant.

His courage…

…A girl who would later crush his heart and destroy him.

* * *

 **Thank you for all the support and wonderful reviews from my readers. I'm glad you guys/gals like my new DE story. This DE story is more emotional compared to my previous story "Kiss Me or Kill Me". I like Damon who is full of himself, sarcastic and arrogant just like in "Kiss Me or Kill Me", LOL! But when I write this Damon, I want him to be something different. He is just a kid who has a new friend and this new friend is somehow different from the other friends he has ever had. And from this friendship of "like" it will grow to "love". Hope all of you will enjoy reading it:)**

 **Please check out all those amazing writers I have mentioned previously -Salvatoreboys4ever, scarlett2112, Rachel3003, VitsAsh, delenadreams, MovingOnIsNeverEasy, Mariah April May etc.**


	4. Chapter 4

Mason Lockwood was an idiot. A moron. A pig.

This, Elena worked out, after spending five minutes with him and Damon. Why Damon was still friends with him was a mystery wrapped in an enigma covered with puzzles.

It was halfway through the summer when Elena first met Mason. His greeting words were: "You dress like a boy." So, she left him and Damon to play out in the backyard and went inside the house.

Lillian was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea. She looked up when she must have heard the back-door open and smiled at Elena. "Mason already got to you, huh?"

"I think he must be an acquired taste," Elena mumbled.

Lillian laughed loud and free. Once settled, she said, "Is there something else you would like to do, Elena? Maybe with me instead of the boys?"

Elena shrugged, feeling a little awkward. "I see you knitting sometimes. I wouldn't mind learning that."

"Oh, yeah?" She smiled, surprised. "Well, let's go." She moved to the living room where she sat down on the couch, patted the spot next to her. Elena sat while she reached into a basket between the couch and the recliner and pulled out two knitting needles and a ball of yarn. "It looks harder than it is," she told Elena, positioning the needles in Elena's hands. Her touch was soft, as soft as her voice. "There are only two stitches. Knit and pearl. I will show you knitting first." Her fingers guided Elena as she spoke and even though Elena tried to focus on her words, on what she was showing her, she couldn't stop watching Lillian. And she tried to remember the last time her mother sat down with her, talked to her the way Lillian was. The last time Isobel showed interest in her at all. She couldn't remember, but it didn't stop her from missing her and wishing that she was more like Lillian.

She spent the rest of the summer between messing around with Damon and Newton, and being taught by Lillian how to knit, crochet, cross-stitch, and scrapbook. To be honest, she enjoyed the time with Lillian the most—maybe because she enjoyed the activities, so much so that she begged her father to let her get her own supplies, even though she knew they couldn't afford it. Or, maybe because Lillian was a mother-figure when she felt like she didn't have one. She hadn't spoken to Isobel since she got in the car with her father and drove away. If John had spoken to Isobel, he didn't mention it. If he missed her, he didn't act on it. If he hurt, he didn't show it. So, Elena made a choice early on that she wouldn't either. She spent a lot of days lying to her father and lying to herself.

"Where is your head at, Elena?" Lillian asked, her fingers working the yarn as if it were an extension of her body.

Elena realized she had been lost in her own head, thoughts of her mother invading her mind. There were tears in her eyes, tears she hadn't known were there. She wiped at them quickly, not wanting to show her weakness to the three boys sitting on the floor in front of them, PlayStation controllers in their hands. "Nothing," she whispered, looking down at her attempt at a scarf.

"Your hands have been in that position for over five minutes," Lillian said, her voice low, her words meant only for Elena. But Damon turned to Elena, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Owned you, brother!" Stefan yelled, and just as quickly, Damon turned back around and refocused on the video game.

"Elena." Lillian dropped her yarn on her lap and freed her hands. She turned to Elena and said, "You can always talk to me about anything. I know that it is just you and your dad here, so if things are going on…with yourself, or with your body, or anything else you feel like you can't talk about with him, I just want you to know I'm here."

Elena stared at Lillian—at her sad eyes and her sad smile—and Elena could feel it in her heart that the words she had spoken were sincere. The tears pooled again and this time, she let them free, along with the words that would haunt her for years. "I feel like I'm not good enough. My mum hasn't spoken to me in months…not since my dad and I left her. And now I sit here with you and I wonder why it is possible to feel more love from you than I felt from her, and I crave it, but I can't miss it because I never felt it. And I can't tell my dad because I don't want him to think that I regret the choice to be with him instead of her, because I don't. Not for a second." She wiped at her cheeks, looked down at her hands, and pushed through the giant lump in her throat. "So, I wonder if I'm not good enough. If that is the reason why she can't seem to find time to pick up the phone and call me. I don't expect much from her, honestly, but I at least want to know she is thinking about me."

Silence filled the room…the video game now paused. Elena felt four pairs of eyes on her, watching, waiting, and the only sounds that broke the silence were her sniffles as she tried to keep it together.

By the time she found the courage to look up, she was met with Lillian's tear-stained face. But it wasn't her who spoke the words which would later define her. It was Damon. "I'm sorry, Elena," he said, his voice shaking. She refused to look at him, but she felt him stand, felt him come closer until he was sitting on the couch next to her, his hand reaching for her. "I'm sorry that your mum makes you feel like that because you are good enough. For me. For all of us. And if she doesn't want you as family then it is her loss, because now—now you are a part of ours. Right, guys?"

"Right," Stefan agreed, while Mason shouted, "Your mum is an ugly, smelly bitch."

* * *

 **Thank you for all the support and kind reviews so far. I'm really glad my readers enjoy reading this story:) This DE story is more of a slow burn, not like "Kiss Me or Kill Me" where there was action/thrill/excitement. Watch the space, there will be some drama coming up soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Year 2002_

Elena felt the sincerity in the Salvatore boys' declaration to be part of their family, and she carried that with her through the next two years. She had gotten even closer to Damon and became friends with Stefan and Sarah because they attended the same school. She even attempted to make friends with Mason so Damon didn't feel like he had to split his time between them.

When Lillian announced that she was pregnant, Elena was there, sitting between Damon and Stefan on the couch in the living room. She squealed and wrapped her arms around Lillian and Salvatore.

Later that day, while Damon pushed her around the merry-go-round at the playground, he teased her about her reaction.

"It is exciting!" Elena giggled. "Aren't you excited?"

"Not really," he said, using both hands to push the bars, his legs moving quicker, spinning her faster. "Mum has been trying to get pregnant again after having Stefan. She has always wanted to have a girl. I was kind of expecting it."

Then he jumped on while it was still moving and sat down next to her, his gaze on the sky, her gaze on him.

"Damon?"

"Yeah."

"Your parents must have a lot of—"

"Shut up!" he shouted, his hand quick to cover her mouth, muffling her final word.

Elena smiled against his palm, and he must have felt it because he smiled back. Then suddenly, he leaned forward, his lips puckered. He kissed the back of his hand—the hand covering her mouth. When he pulled back, his eyes were huge. He dropped his hand quickly and looked away. Elena touched her lips and wondered what it would feel like to have him kiss her. If it felt anything like she felt then, it was going to blow her mind. She laid on her back, looking up at the dull grey sky, and even though the merry-go-round had lost its momentum and was barely moving, her mind was spinning and the world had never seemed so bright.

When she got home, she hugged her father like she had never hugged him before. "What is this?" John asked, hands on her shoulders when she finally let him go.

"I just love you."

"Me?"

"And I love it here. Thank you for finding this place."

John smiled. "So you are happy here?"

Elena nodded. "The happiest."

It was all true. Meeting the Salvatores, spending time with Lillian, meeting Damon, it changed her outlook, her life.

She felt worthy.

She finally felt like she was enough.

She remembered sitting at her desk and writing a letter to her mother—a letter she would never send. It told Isobel that she loved her life here in Mystic Falls. That she loved her new home. That she loved her decision to leave with John. And that she was happy and she was loved.

Then one day, it all crumbled—her world, her heart—the moment John sat her down and told her that Lillian had been diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo abortion in order to start treatment for her cancer. Elena remembered looking up at the ceiling, at the bright, white light hanging in the centre of her room while her head spun, and spun, and spun some more. The walls closed in, the air thick in her lungs as she tried to wrap her mind around what it would mean. Not just for Lillian, but for her family. And then she thought about Damon, about the boy who offered her friendship when she had no one and nothing. She stood quickly, her heart racing. "Damon," she whispered.

"Damon is fine, Elena."

"No." She shook her head. "I need to see him."

"You will see him at school."

"No! I need to see him now, Dad!"

"Honey," he said, reaching out and taking her hand. Elena yanked it back and ran for the door. She kept running until her lungs burned, until her legs felt like jelly, all the way to the Salvatore house. Stefan answered the door, his cheeks splotchy. She couldn't get a word out through the tiny spurts of breath she was struggling to get through, but she didn't need words. Stefan fell into her arms, his sobs muffled by her hoodie. "It is okay," she whispered, stroking the back of his head. "It is going to be okay."

"Elena," Damon said from behind Stefan, his eyes filled with tears even though it was clear he had already shed so many of them.

Stefan released her and Damon approached, his attempts to stifle his cries forcing her own. "I'm so sorry," she told him.

Elena didn't know how long she stood in his doorway, his arms around her neck, her hands around his waist, holding onto the only thing that felt right, that made sense, in an otherwise cruel and hurtful world. "I'm glad you are here, Elena."

"I will always be here."

Spring turned to summer—a summer a complete contrast to the year before. But at the same time, it was identical. The summer two years ago, she said goodbye to her mother and, as strange as it sounds, she found a replacement.

This summer John said a single word that had Elena falling to her knees and sobbing in front of him: Terminal.

She wanted to run to Damon, to hold him in her arms and never let him go. She wanted to curl up at the foot of his bed, keep him safe, tell him everything would be okay. That she would be there for him through it all. John was the only reason she didn't. "They need some space, Elena," he said. "They need to spend whatever time they have left as a family."

Lillian Salvatore passed away September 25th.

Her funeral was five days later.

It seemed like the entire town mourned her death.

Elena couldn't really recall much of the actual funeral, her heavy heart and heavy tears preventing her from remembering most of it, but she remembered Damon. She remembered the way he stood with Giuseppe on one side, Stefan on the other, his head lowered, wearing a suit with a tie. She also remembered feeling like she was a horrible person for thinking that he had never looked as handsome as he did right then, at his mother's funeral, surrounded by nothing but heartache and fear.

She wanted to go to him. To all of them. But she didn't know what to say. _What do you say to two kids who have just lost their world?_

"You should talk to Damon, sweetheart," John said, making their way up the Salvatore's long driveway, along with many other cars, after the ceremony. "You are his best friend, and he needs you now more than ever."

She managed to find her voice for the first time that day. "What do I say to him?"

"You tell him the truth, Elena. That you are sorry. That you are there for him. That you always will be."

The words filtered through the knot in her throat and out of her mouth, "I'm scared, Dad. What if I say something wrong?"

"You won't, sweetheart. Just be you."

She found Damon in his secret hideout, his eyes glazed as he looked out on the lake. Newton slapped his tail against the ground a couple of times and focused his attention on two robins that were amusing themselves by playing in the lake.

"Hey," she said, barely a whisper.

Damon didn't respond. Not verbally, and not in any other way. She sat on the ground next to him, forgetting the expensive black dress John had bought her because she didn't own anything suitable for a funeral. Minutes passed, neither saying a word, neither making a move to do so. Her mind worked, trying to find words of comfort, of grace.

"Don't," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Don't what?"

"Don't say you are sorry. Or that you will miss her. Or that she was an amazing person and the world is a lesser place because she is no longer part of it. Or that I will be okay. That one day, I will get over this. Or to remember her for everything she was, because I have heard it all. There is not a damn thing you can say to make it okay. Not now. Not ever." He didn't say it with malice, and she didn't take it that way. He was just…sad. So damn sad.

And right.

And Elena realized then that it wasn't as if Lillian had died suddenly—been in a car accident or any other form of accidental death. For months they knew this was coming. For months Damon, along with Stefan, would have heard the same words over and over. It would do nothing to take away the pain. The hurt. The sadness he was so openly displaying. He was a fourteen-year-old boy who was hurting, and the one person who could make it better had been taken away from him. He pulled his knees to his chest, his tie now undone, separated and hanging loosely around his neck. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired and teary.

The words came to her quickly, without thought—words she had held onto and kept secret until that moment. "My dad is not my real dad," she told him. "I mean, not my biological dad. I don't know who he is. Dad married my mum when I was five and he has treated me like his own ever since." She glanced at him quickly, but he was looking down at his lap. So, she focused on the lake, at the ripple of water that seemed to mirror her emotions. "After they got married, Mum took a late shift at a tile factory. She would sleep in the mornings and be gone in the afternoons, so for a long time Dad was the only parent I had. I barely saw her. On weekends she would be gone hours, sometimes days at a time, and we didn't know where. So, Dad and I got closer while Mum chose to drift away. After a few years, I had heard them arguing. A lot. I had heard her yelling at him for not doing enough to support her, for breaking promises to her that he would take care of us." She licked her lips, her mouth dry. "She didn't have the life she expected, but I have never been so happy. And as the years went by, things got worse. The breaking point was when Mum came home late one night and Dad asked where she had been. She picked up a chair from the kitchen table and threw it at him. He told her then and there that he wanted a divorce."

Elena reached out for Damon's hand, and he let her hold it. "I kind of just stood there frozen, my heart sinking because I was losing the only parent who cared about me." She blinked back the tears, knowing she had no right to carry them. Not that day. "A few months before I moved here…I stood in the driveway, watching him load up his car, leaving the house he owned, a house he offered to my mum and me…and I just stood there crying, not wanting to say goodbye. I couldn't let go of him when he hugged me…when he promised to keep in touch. I didn't want him to keep in touch. He was my dad, regardless of what my birth certificate said." After heaving in a breath, I found the courage to continue. "And I looked at my mum, pleading with my eyes to not let him go, and she just looked at me, not a single ounce of sorry or regret on her face, and said, 'Make your choice, Elena. Him or me.' So, I got in his car and we drove away. For weeks, we stayed in a hotel room, and she never once checked in on me. Sometimes I would dream of seeing her waiting for me outside of school, just to let me know she was there, that I could go to her." She swallowed loudly, pushed through. "He gave up everything, the house, the car, all the money he had. And he never once looked at me the way she had—that I had somehow ruined his life. So now we are here, and he is struggling to make ends meet because he wanted to keep the peace. And I know he did that for me so that I didn't have to deal with her. And I know you don't want to hear how great your mum was or any other generic speech you may have heard a million times, but your mum was the closest thing I have had to one, and I would give up my mother if it meant that you could see yours just one more time."

Damon stared at her, his head slowly moving from side to side, his eyebrows drawn. "I don't know what I would have done without you." He kept his hand on hers, the other wiping at her unjustified tears. "My Delena."

Elena hugged him so hard she swore she pushed all the air from his lungs. "My Delena."

It was a few weeks after the funeral—thunder and lightning and huge gusts of wind accompanied the rain, and Elena laid in bed—deathly afraid of storms. Justin Timberlake's Cry Me a River the soundtrack of her current life status.

The song suddenly stopped and the room filled with darkness. "Elena?" John shouted from upstairs.

"Yeah?"

"The storm must have cut off the power."

"I figured."

He made his way down the basement stairs and towards her, flashlight in hand. "You okay?"

"How long do you think it is going to be out for?" she asked.

"Why? You expecting to outweigh the rain with Timberlake's tears?"

Elena said nothing.

"That song has been playing for three days straight, Elena."

"I like the song."

"It is a little depressing."

There was a knock on the basement door which led to the backyard. The only one who would know to use it would be—"Damon!" she shouted.

John opened the door.

Damon stood just outside, hair soaked, along with the rest of him. His arms were crossed, shivering against the cold. "I'm sorry for coming around so late, sir." He was in a grey t-shirt and running shorts and nothing else. His teeth clanked together as he said, "Elena told me once she was scared of storms…I wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Does your dad know where you are, son?" John asked.

Damon shook his head, droplets of rain falling on his shoulder. "No, sir. My dad doesn't really know where he is most of the time." His gaze shifted to Elena standing behind John. Elena swallowed the knot in her throat, a million emotions hitting her. He looked so sad, so hopeless, so young. Too young to be feeling the way he did.

"Get inside," John said, breaking the silence and pulling on Damon's arm to get him out of the rain. "Did you run here?"

Damon held her stare. "Yes, sir."

Elena finally found her voice, her eyes glazed with tears. "Why are you here?" She breathed out.

He spoke, his voice hoarse. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She looked at him, disbelief washing through her. He stood there, his skin glistening and his eyes red and raw. "Damon…Are you okay?"

He stared at her a long time. Then he let out a sob, so quiet she barely heard it. She stepped towards him, her hand going for his. "I hurt, Elena," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Where?" She rushed out, searching his body for any sign of injury. After what felt like forever, and finding no blood or broken bones, she looked up at him, and she could instantly tell that the pain he spoke of wasn't physical. It was so much worse. She wrapped him in her arms, ignoring his wet clothes and her dry ones, and at that moment, they pretended the storm and the darkness drowned out his cries and devoured his pain. His chest rose and fell against hers, his grip on her getting tighter with each passing second. Then he exhaled a shaky breath, his mouth to her ear. "I hurt everywhere."

John made them hot chocolate, and they pretended like they didn't think they were too old for it. Damon spoke while she and John listened. He told them about how his father was suffering, lost, and trying to find the answers at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Damon had seen Giuseppe passed out drunk more times than he had seen him upright. The night before, Stefan had gone missing. No one noticed until Damon checked in on him at around two in the morning. Stefan was out in the freezing lake, his pyjamas still on. When Damon had found him, Stefan simply said, "I wanted to feel something." They promised each other they would never tell Giuseppe because they didn't want to upset their father anymore, and Damon gave Stefan the clothes off his back and snuck him back into the house, up the stairs, to Stefan's room. They cried once they were inside the room. Together. Apart. But silent, not wanting to wake their dad.

It was the first night Damon ever spent in Elena's house, in her bedroom, on the couch. It took him a few hours to fall asleep, and she watched as his chest rose and fell, his search for peace finally found in his sleep.

It was heartbreaking, breathtaking, and in a way, it was kind of beautiful.

Damon Salvatore was beautiful.

* * *

 **This isn't an easy chapter to write - it is emotional and I was quite sad when I finished writing it. I know my readers will be upset that I "kill off" Lillian so early but this is part of the storyline...sorry:( I hope I have managed to bring out the chemistry and dynamics of Delena in this story. It is a different kind of chemistry and dynamics compared to my other DE stories. Hopefully you guys/gays will enjoy this chapter.**

 **Once again, thank you for all the support. I really appreciate it:)**

 **Check out those amazing stories - Captive of her beauty by Salvatoreboys4ever, This isn't what we meant by scarlett2112 (she has plenty DE stories which are amazing!), Make you feel my love by delenadreams (this young writer has written quite a lot of interesting DE stories too!), Healing You by Rachel3003 (this young writer is talented and a special friend of mine), Stumbling Upon by VitsAsh, Blind Date by MovingOnIsNeverEasy etc. I like Strawberry Wine by TheLittle MissVixen too - it was a beautiful story. I'm so glad to encounter these amazing writers in this website:)**


	6. Chapter 6

_Year 2004_

"Elena!" Knock knock. "Elena, answer the door!" It was 1 am, pitch black. "Yo, Elena!" Damon knocked again, a little harder.

Light shone from beneath the door, and Damon shoved his hands in his pockets and waited. Finally, the door opened and Elena appeared, dressed in flannel pyjamas, her long dark brown hair a mess. She squinted as if trying to work out who was at her door…as if there would be anyone else.

"Are you going to let me in? I have been waiting forever."

Turning slowly, she mumbled something under her breath, her feet sliding across the tiles of her basement bedroom.

Damon shrugged off his jacket and threw it across the room to her couch. By the time he looked back at her, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her eyes. She moaned in frustration before getting under her covers and saying, "How was the end-of-summer party?"

He stripped out of his jeans and stood in his T-shirt and boxers. "Same old," he told her, taking the spare blanket and pillow from the trunk by the foot of her bed. He created his usual spot on the couch while she waited for him to settle. She didn't watch him, although sometimes heed wished she would. Ego and all.

"Was Rose there?"

"Yep."

"And you couldn't go back to her place, or better yet, back to that amazing garage apartment at your own house that you have all to yourself?"

"You are grumpy." Damon waited for a response and when nothing came, he added, "And you know I can't have girls over at the house."

"I'm sure you could sneak a girl in considering it is not even attached to the house." She motioned with her hand for him to hurry up, so he smacked the pillow a few times, got under the blanket and pointed to the lamp.

Once the room was filled with darkness, Damon said, "I don't bring girls home because it is Dad's rules and I respect that." He looked over at Elena, but the only thing he could make out was the outline of her body. "Maybe I just miss hanging out with you." He shifted to his side and tried to get more comfortable, but it was cold in the room, and this couch wasn't what it used to be. "Elena?"

"What?" she snapped

Elena was angry, he thought. She was so cute when she was angry.

He could still remember the first time they met four years ago. He certainly hadn't expected her to be such a beauty although she was only twelve at that time.

Long, dark hair—a deep chestnut brown—that swept across one eye and tumbled well past her shoulders. Bronze skin that blushed a little when she was angry (as he had definitely seen firsthand) and deep, expressive brown doe eyes.

It was her eyes that made his heart skipped a beat or two. They had a lively sparkle—a little gleam—that said she was five steps ahead of you at all times and knew it.

"I'm cold."

"Suck it up, Prince Asshole."

"You are mean."

Elena sighed loudly as she shuffled around in her bed, and before she even offered, Damon was already on his feet, pillow in hand, walking towards her. "I'm the absolute opposite of mean, especially when it comes to you."

Damon allowed himself to smile because he knew she couldn't see him. "Yeah, because we are Delena."

Then he threw his pillow on her bed and climbed under the covers with her. It was a game they had played, over and over. A game he always won. He turned to his side and faced her back. "Elena?"

"What?"

"I'm still cold. Can I cuggles?" Only with Elena would he would ever use a toddler's talk. Not just because it was lame, but because she was the only one who understood it.

She huffed, annoyed, but still, she scooted back until her body was pressed against him. Damon put one arm under her pillow and the other over her waist.

"You are freezing," she said, her tone clipped. "Are you okay?"

"Well, yeah, your room is an ice chest."

"You are the most cold-blooded person I know."

Damon laughed under his breath, pulled her closer, used her body heat to warm him. "That is an unfair assumption. How many guys have you let hold you like this?"

She didn't respond. In fact, she was silent for so long he started to second-guess his words. Was that mean? Maybe it was. Even if it was true. "Sorry," he said because he had been with enough girls to know that a single word could save any and all future drama.

"It is fine," she said softly. "I need to sleep and you need to shut up."

"Got it." He shifted closer.

"Did you drink tonight?" she asked.

"Yep. Three light beers. 435 calories. I should be able to burn it off tomorrow morning. Ten miles…fifteen minutes, plus what I normally run."

She sighed. "Did you drive here? You know you aren't supposed to drive…"

"If I drove, I would have my keys, and if I had my keys, I would have let myself in and I wouldn't have been standing—"

"Sorry I asked," she cut in.

He frowned. "You are so snappy tonight. What is going on with you?"

She turned over and faced him, her eyes still closed. "I'm tired."

Reaching behind him, Damon switched on the lamp, trying to read her. "If something is going on, you would tell me, right?

Her eyes fluttered open. First one, then the other. The corner of her lips lifted, and he knew he had said the right thing. Her forehead met his chest and her toes tickled his. The smell of her shampoo hit his nostrils: coconuts, lime, and Elena.

He didn't know how long they laid there, the lamp still on, his hand on her waist, her head on his chest before his stomach rumbled, slicing through the sound of their mixed breaths. Elena laughed once, her exhale warming him. "You hungry?" she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

He had always found her intriguing; the way she wrinkled her nose, the way she laughed, the way she pouted, the way she bit her lower lip…he had tasted those lips. Accidentally, but it still counted. It was Christmas last year. He went to kiss her cheek. She went to kiss his. Their lips touched. She tasted like strawberries, and to this day he couldn't look or smell a strawberry without thinking of Elena's full lips.

"Damon?"

"Huh?" _Crap, I'm a creep._

"You want me to make you something?"

Damon swallowed loudly and looked at anywhere but her. "Is that okay?"

Elena threw the covers off both of them. "I'm awake now anyway."

"You should make your own sandwiches," she mumbled, cutting the bread in triangles as if he was Lachlan. Her eyebrows were drawn. She was annoyed. She was gorgeous when she was annoyed. She was gorgeous always.

Damon swung his legs back and forth while he sat on the kitchen counter watching her. "Last time I did that, you almost puked at what I put in there."

Elena handed him the plate and moved to the fridge. "Pickles and peanut butter are…just gross, Damon." Opening the door, she asked, "Water or soda?"

"Water."

He caught the bottle she threw at his head, then froze when he heard her front door open. "Is that your dad?"

She shrugged. "Probably."

He looked at the clock on their microwave and with a mouthful of food, he asked, "It is 1:30 in the morning. Where has he been?"

Elena leaned back on the counter next to him, her arms crossed. "On a date."

"Elena, is that you?" John called out from the hallway.

Elena didn't respond.

"I thought I heard voices." He peeked into the kitchen, a smile forming when he saw Damon. "Damon, you are here."

Before Damon could respond, Elena said to him, "Young man. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

John laughed

Damon chuckled. How adorable Elena could be?

Then Elena said, "I have been up all night worried sick!"

And Damon could no longer tell if she was kidding.

John rolled his eyes. "Sorry, madam."

"You could have called," Elena said with annoyance.

John slipped into the room. "I said I was sorry," he whined dramatically.

Elena giggled.

 _Oh, so she is kidding. Man, I really suck at reading her_ , Damon thought.

John said, looking between them, "Let me guess how your night went. You"—he pointed to Elena—"stayed home and watched TV or knitted a scarf, and you"—his finger moved to Damon—"went drinking at a party and came knocking on my daughter's door."

Damon took a sip of the water and jumped off the counter. "And you," he said, pointing to John, "went on a date?"

"I did," John said, lifting his chin.

"So…" Damon swayed from side to side teasingly. "What is her name? What does she do?"

"Her name is Jules."

"Oh," Damon said through a chuckle. "Is she a stripper?"

Elena slapped the back of his head. "Damon!"

John laughed. "She's sure got the body of one."

"Dad!"

"What?!" John and Damon said at the same time. Then John added, his eyebrows lifting, "She is a police officer. Handcuffs and all."

"Dad!" Elena shouted.

"Nice." Damon high-five him.

He and John had gotten close over the years. Besides the family get-togethers and ball games, he guessed John found it necessary to get to know the kid who was constantly knocking on their front door and asking to see his daughter. It was not a bad thing. At all. He liked John and he hoped to God John liked him. He had to, right? Otherwise why would John permit him knocking on Elena's door at all hours of the night and getting into bed with her? Well, the bed part he probably didn't know about. They always made sure the couch looked slept in.

"Honey, why don't you ever go to these parties with Damon?" John asked Elena.

Elena shrugged and looked down at the floor. "It is not really my scene."

"Yeah, but if Damon is there then it—"

"He doesn't invite me."

"You would go?" Damon asked, his voice loud. Too loud.

Elena's eyes snapped to his. So did John's. Great. The Gilberts Stare. There were very few things in life more terrifying than the Gilberts Stare.

"It is just, I mean, it is not really…you are not…" Damon stuttered.

"I wouldn't go," Elena said.

"Why not?" John asked. "You are almost sixteen soon, Elena, and you barely leave the house."

Elena shrugged. "Just because you have gotten a social life in the past year, it doesn't mean I have to."

John rolled his eyes again. "You should be out there…" he said, throwing his hands in the air. "…making mistakes and falling in like. Not love. Not yet. But you should at least be dating."

Damon choked on the bite he had just taken.

"I have dated," Elena said. She didn't say it with pride or with snark. She said it so matter-of-factly that Damon knew she was telling the truth and that thought alone had the food lodged somewhere between his throat and his stomach, and he thumped at his chest, hoping to clear it.

"Who?" John asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Who is not important."

John stepped closer to her. "Tell me."

Swallow. Water. Gasp for air.

Elena presses her lips tight, refusing to answer.

Damon looked between the two because he now realized there was one thing more terrifying than the Gilberts Stare. It was the Gilberts Stand-Off.

"I'm sorry," John conceded, stepping back. "I just worry you are missing out on life."

Elena pointed to Damon. "Because I don't want to be him?"

"Hey!" Damon looked down at himself. "What is wrong with me?"

John pointed a finger between the two of them. "Why don't you two…"

Elena made a face. "Dad, that's gross. It is Damon."

 _Ouch. That hurts._ "I'm right here!"

They both laughed. Damon didn't know why. He didn't find it funny.

"Goodnight, kids," John said, turning away and waving a hand in the air.

"Wait!" Damon squared his shoulders. "What is wrong with me?"

* * *

 **I'm so glad my readers have enjoyed reading this DE story. Thank you so much for the support and wonderful reviews. I really appreciate them. I promise I will try my very best to write DE stories:) I was laughing when I wrote this chapter as I could picture how Damon would look like when John and Elena talked about dating Damon, LOL!**

 **Enjoy:)**


	7. Chapter 7

_Year 2005_

"So, Sarah and Stefan want to go to the movies tomorrow night. Do you want to go?" Damon asked, laying across Elena's bed, baseball mitt in one hand, throwing a ball in the air with the other. Newton sprawled across a mound of pillows and raised his head from his paws intermittently to regard them with intelligent eyes.

"Why?" Elena asked, turning away from her mirror on the dresser and facing him.

Damon shrugged and rolled over onto his stomach. "I guess they want to get out and have some fun. If it is a money thing, I can cover you."

She smiled. She couldn't help it. "Like a date?"

"Pshh." He scoffed, then his features straightened. "I mean. It is not a date. My brother and cousin sister will be there so…"

"Okay," she said, hiding her disappointment. "Only if you are paying, though, because I spent all my allowance on some new outfits."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, sitting up, his eyes narrowed. "What kind of outfits?"

"Just stuff more suitable for high school, you know? I can't walk around in slogan tees forever."

"I like your slogan tees," he said.

She smiled again and turned away from him, watching him watch her through the mirror. "You have changed," he stated, his tone very matter-of-fact.

"How?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Good or bad?"

"I said I don't know."

And just like that, her smile faded.

She wore a new outfit she had been saving for school. It was a purple dress with black palm tree prints that went to just above her knees and boots that stopped just below them. She had never owned boots before. At least not ones like those. And she sprayed on perfume her grandmother (on John's side) had sent her for her birthday. So even though Damon had said it wasn't a date, she treated it like one. She couldn't help it.

That was her first mistake.

When the doorbell rang at 7:30 pm on the dot, her heart began to race. John answered, and she heard them talking. Three voices. John, Damon and Stefan.

They exchanged pleasantries as she made her way up the basement stairs and towards the front door. "Wow," Stefan said when she came into view.

Elena rubbed her palms on her dress and smiled at John who was smiling at her, the look in his eyes conveying, " _my little girl's all grown up_." And she was. At least, she felt like it.

Stefan whistled, low and slow. "Elena, you look—"

"Overdressed," Damon cut in.

John's eyes snapped to his.

"Not in a bad way," Damon said, hands up in surrender. "I just mean…I feel underdressed is all."

Elena quickly forgave him for his earlier comment.

That was mistake number two.

Damon wore khaki shorts and a white polo. He looked nice, even if he didn't work at it.

"Be good, kids," John said as he closed the door behind them.

"I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean you were overdressed. It's just…" Damon paused as he opened the door of the minivan for her. "You are dressed like this is a date or something, and I told you it wasn't."

Elena dropped her gaze, revealed her disappointment.

Mistake number three.

She sat in the last row of seats in the van because she didn't want Damon sitting next to her. She was hurt. His words hurt, and she felt stupid. Pathetic.

He didn't speak on the way to the movie theatre where she had later found her first place of employment. He didn't glance in her direction. Not even when Sarah said, "You look so pretty, Elena. Doesn't she look nice, Damon?"

He shrugged, mumbled, "I guess," and kept driving.

It was the first time Elena physically felt her heart sink. Felt it crack.

She wanted to cry but doing so in the car on the way to their non-date would make the actual non-date unbearable, so she kept it together. She should have faked sick and asked Damon to take her home. She didn't.

Mistake number four.

She paid for her own ticket even though Damon offered.

She paid for her own snacks, too, just to reiterate to herself that it was not a date.

She wanted to sit on her own, or at least on the other side of Stefan and Sarah and away from him, but she thought that might be taking it too far. She didn't hate Damon. He told her how it was, but her own wants and fantasies turned it into something it wasn't.

Yep. Mistake number five.

Elena said she needed to use the bathroom and that she would catch up with them. That way they could choose the seating arrangements, and she realized even then that she was overthinking everything, and as she stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes getting redder from her withheld tears, she realized how pathetic she was being. Hurt, but still, pathetic. She yanked a square of paper towel from the dispenser, ran it under warm water and removed what little "fake" make-up she wore, which was just grape flavoured Lip-Smacker that turned her lips a light shade of purple to match the dress that was apparently too "overdressed."

When she got into the theatre, Sarah waved at her even though the room was practically empty and the lights hadn't been dimmed yet. They were sitting in the middle of the last row. It was Stefan on the left, Sarah next to him, empty seat, then Damon. She assumed the empty spot was for her. Damon stood when she approached so she could get past him and take her seat. She looked at her watch. They were ten minutes early. She had to sit in silence with the light on for ten whole minutes. A group of girls sat a few rows in front of them, their ages ranging from hers to Sarah's. They turned around often, giggled to each other, then whispered words she couldn't hear.

"Are you wearing perfume?" Damon asked.

Elena knew she should have scrubbed the perfume off her when she was removing the purple from her lips. "Yeah. My grandmother gave it to me. I don't really have anywhere else to wear it so…"

"It is nice," he said. "It suits you."

"It is not really me," she admitted, choking on a sob. She whispered, "This really isn't me at all. I look stupid."

Damon didn't respond for a long time, and she felt that twisting ache in her chest again. "I liked your slogan tees," he said. "And your crazy coloured flip-flops."

Elena tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling, all so her tears wouldn't fall.

He hated her outfit, and she hated that it bothered her so much.

Mistake number six.

The girls giggled again.

"If they do that through the entire movie I'm going to take a rusty chainsaw to all their heads," Sarah snapped. "Why do they keep looking this way?"

"Leave it alone, sweetheart," Stefan said, trying to settle her. "If they do it while the movie is on, I will talk to them."

"Sure," Sarah said. "You talk to them, Stefan, and if they so much as even try to hit on you boys, I will stab them in the eye with this straw."

"You are very death-to-the-world today," Stefan said.

Sarah giggled. "I will strangle them with my Red Vines."

Stefan laughed. "Stone them to death with your Whoppers?"

Sarah said, "Shove my hot dog up their—"

"Okay, that's enough," Damon cut in just in time.

Another round of giggles.

"What do you bitches want?" Sarah shouted, her arm raised, hand full of popcorn.

Stefan grasped her wrist, stopping her.

One of the girls, brunette and beautiful, pointed to Damon. "Come here," she said, laughing with her friends.

Damon pointed to himself, his eyebrows raised. "Me?"

Five heads, hair perfectly straight, nodded at the same time.

Damon turned to Elena, and she faced him for the first time since he was at her door. "Do you mind?" he asked.

Elena swallowed the lump in her throat, shook her head, said, "Why would I mind?"

His eyes stayed on hers. He said nothing. She said nothing.

"Damon," Stefan said behind Elena. There was something in the way he said Damon's name. It wasn't to get his attention. It almost sounded like a warning. Like that was his chance to speak to those girls and if he didn't do it then, he might never get to again.

"He has a name," said one of the giggling girls.

"Damon!" they cooed in unison.

Elena dropped her gaze, hid her emotions.

Damon left, only to return when the movie started.

She timed the release of my tears to match Sarah's sobs.

Sarah cried over the movie.

Elena cried over her life.

And when the movie was over and Stefan, Sarah and Elena waited for Damon to stop talking to the girls just outside the building, his words "I will call you," acting as the final stab wound to Elena's chest, Stefan turned to her, her voice full of pity. "You really do look nice, Elena."

"Yeah?" Elena asked, looking down at the prettiest dress she owned. "Because I feel so stupid."

x x x

"It is not a big deal," Elena said, slamming her locker shut.

"It is your seventeen birthday!"

"So?"

"So you have to do something!"

"With who, Damon? My friends? I have you and that's basically it."

"You have me and your dad and my family…so that's enough."

Elena giggled, handed him her books and started braiding her long black hair to the side. Damon watched, fascinated. She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing." Then he blinked hard and cleared the fog in his mind she had created. "Will you at least let me take you out to dinner or something?"

She whined, "It's really not a big deal."

"But I want to," he said, giving back her books.

She stopped in front of him, her books held against her chest. "Nothing fancy?"

"I promise."

"Okay."

"Good."

"Good."

She started to walk away, and he followed. She must have washed her hair the night before because he could smell her shampoo and was stupidly drawn to it. She stopped suddenly, causing him to almost slam into her. "What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing their surroundings. She pointed behind him. "Your class is that way."

He faked a grin. "Sorry, I was day-dreaming."

"Damon! You promised it wouldn't be fancy!" Elena whisper-yelled over the menu.

"It's not that fancy!" Damon said. It was. A few weeks earlier he asked Virginia, their servant at the time, for the fanciest place he could take a girl and so there they were, sitting opposite each other in a booth made of red, shiny leather, smiling at each other, her in a dark blue dress and him in a suit, sans tie. "Order whatever you want."

She shook her head, her smile spreading. She said, testing him, "I'm going to order the lobster."

"Do you even eat lobster?"

She laughed out loud, and he wanted to kiss her right then and there in the middle of the fanciest restaurant in town. "I have never had it, but I always see it in movies, you know? The lobster is the most expensive thing on the menu." She started flipping through the pages, her eyes scanning each item quickly. "It is ninety-eight dollars, Damon!" she whispered, her shoulders bouncing.

Damon leaned back in the seat, basking in everything Elena, and said, "Order it."

She dropped the menu, narrowed her eyes at him. "How can you even afford this?"

"I have worked a couple of shifts for Dad lately."

Her eyes widened. "For this?"

"Yeah, for this."

"No." She shook her head. "Let's just order a pizza and go back to my room or something. This is too much."

He called for the waiter and ordered the lobster.

Elena did not like lobster.

Neither did he, but he traded his steak for it and pretended like lobster was the greatest thing he had ever tasted. He skipped dessert, she ordered two, and he sat and he watched as she told him about her new job at the movie theatre and how she had made sure her shifts didn't collide with his track meets, and he fell deeper and deeper. And when she was done, he pulled out the rectangular box that had been burning a hole in his pocket and watched her eyes light up when he slid it across the table towards her. She looked so beautiful, hair braided to the side, lips red, eyes bright. She whispered his name, and he imagined their lives ten years from then when she would whisper it again but in a different way. She opened the box and instantly covered her mouth. "It is stunning," she said, and he verbally agreed, but he wasn't talking about the gold bracelet in the box. He was talking about her. "Now I feel bad for getting you that heart rate monitor strap."

"That was a perfect present, Elena." His fingers shook when he clasped the bracelet to her wrist. He was nervous. Scared. Because for the past few weeks, he had been counting down to that night, to the moment he would tell her how he felt about her.

"I can't believe you got me this, Damon. It is too much," she said.

It wasn't enough.

She added, "I feel like we need to make a pact or something to remember this moment. Like, what if something happens over the next couple of years and we change and our lives change and we never get to celebrate birthdays together again? We barely see each other now with school and your practices and me working on weekends and… we should go to senior prom together!" She shouted the last part. "Yeah, Damon. We should do that!"

Damon smiled. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

She leaned back in her seat, watched the light glisten off of her new present.

He told her, "We have one more stop before I take you home."

His family wanted to see Elena on her birthday, so he drove them back to his house where a cake was waiting, along with seventeen candles. Giuseppe had taken Stefan to the mall to pick out something for her. Damon knew she wanted to cry. She didn't. But she held both Giuseppe and Stefan for a long time.

And then they lit the candles, sang Happy Birthday, and Damon took pictures of her blowing out the candles, holding her presents, smiling, smiling, smiling. They told everyone about dinner, about lobster, about their pact to go to senior prom together.

Damon cleaned the dishes after they had finished the cake while Elena sat with Giuseppe in the living room. He wished he was brave enough to tell her but he couldn't just come out and say, "I love you, Elena. Will you be my girlfriend?" because, at the time, he thought it would suck. Now, looking back, it probably would have been enough. He closed his eyes, tried to think, but then the song Wonderwall by Oasis started playing from the living room, and he went still, his heart in his throat. They had grown up with the song constantly playing loudly from the kitchen when Lillian would be preparing dinner. Some nights, Giuseppe came home early from work, he and Lillian would dance together, Lillian standing on Giuseppe's feet, to the song they danced to on their wedding day.

He was almost afraid to go the living room, to see his father to see his reaction to the song. But when he reached the living room, he saw the lights dim, the original record playing, and Elena in Giuseppe's arms, dancing amongst her gifts scattered around the floor. "She will be all ready for you come senior prom," Giuseppe called out to him. Smiling.

Damon sat on the sofa. The song played on, as Stefan and he watched Elena gave Giuseppe a reason to smile, and they took a moment to miss their mother and to appreciate Elena for every single thing she brought to the family.

He helped Elena carry all her presents to her room, where John was waiting for them. "How was your night?" he asked.

Elena hadn't stopped smiling. "I tried lobster!" she announced.

John laughed. "Did you like it?"

She scrunched her nose, dumped the presents on her bed. "Damon did, though," she said.

John eyed him and Damon gave him a face that showed he really didn't like lobster, but that it was just between them. The men. John smiled at him, but his expression changed when he faced Elena and asked, "Did your mother call you, honey?"

"No." She sat on the bed next to her dad. "But I didn't expect her to, so it is not a big deal." It was a big deal. Even if she didn't admit it, it was a huge deal.

John said, "She called me a few days ago, said she might not have a signal today, but she sent you something in the mail."

For the umpteenth time that day, Elena's eyes lit up. "She did?"

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in purple and gold paper. "This is from her. It came in the mail yesterday, but she asked I give it to you on your birthday."

"Wow," Elena said with a sigh. She unwrapped it quickly, revealing a pair of diamond earrings. It made the bracelet Damon bought her look cheap. It wasn't but that was how he felt at that moment. "These are great," she said, but her reaction was less than when she opened Stefan's or when she opened his, and he felt pride swell in his chest. She removed her green and purple dreamcatcher earrings and replaced them with the diamond ones. "How do they look?" she asked her dad.

"Beautiful," he said. "You look beautiful, Elena."

"Beautiful," Damon agreed.

"Should I call her?" she asked. "To thank her?"

"No," John said quickly. "It is late now, and I'm sure she has no signal otherwise she would have called."

"Right," said Elena.

John stood. "Well. I'm off to bed. Don't stay up too late. You have school tomorrow."

Elena nodded, stood, kissed her dad on the cheek. "Goodnight, Dad."

Damon said goodnight, too, and waited for John to leave. It was time, he thought, the night was almost over and he had something to say.

"You hungry?" she asked.

"Not really."

"I'm hungry." Then she marched up the stairs and he followed her to the kitchen. She opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of chips. She was upset. She snacked when she was upset, and they both knew the reason why, but she had never say it out loud. He hadn't missed her checking her phone every few minutes while they were at dinner or earlier in the day at school or in the car. She was waiting for the phone call or even a simple text. She had lied to John. She lied to herself.

Elena grabbed two sodas from the fridge and handed them to Damon, her way of asking him to stay a little while longer. Then she emptied the bag of chips into a bowl, held onto the bag as she walked to the trash, pressed her foot on the lever to lift the lid, and then froze in her spot.

"What is it?" he asked.

She didn't respond.

He walked over to her, watched her eyes quickly fill with tears. Then he looked in the trash, at the cause of the tears, at the discarded purple and gold wrapping paper.

"It is not a big deal," she whispered. It was.

She used his chest to muffle her cries, not wanting John to hear her. And he stood there, holding her, knowing it wasn't the right time to tell her how he felt. But then she looked up at him, her eyes red and raw. "Thank you, Damon."

"For what?" he asked.

"For being here. For being my friend."

Her friend.

Damon didn't tell her he loved her that night.

He couldn't.

He was her friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. And at the time, he was okay with it because he had other, more important, things to worry about.

Giuseppe was in his office when he got home, sitting at his desk where he needed to be. "I need the computer," Damon told him.

"Where is your laptop?"

"I need your computer," he reiterated. He moved behind the desk, stood and hovered next to Giuseppe.

"What is the urgency?"

He bounced on his toes, rage washing through him. "You keep all the resumes of your employees, right?"

"Yes."

"So you would have Elena's old address from when Brian sent you his?"

"Yes, but—"

"I need it," he cut in.

"Damon," Giuseppe said, standing up so Damon could take his seat. "What's happening?"

His fingers worked frantically, opening and closing files, trying to find the right one. "And I'm going to need your truck tomorrow."

"Damon!" Giuseppe shook his shoulders and made Damon look at him. "What the hell's going on?"

"I hate her," Damon bit out.

"Who? Elena?"

"No!" Damon shouted. "Her mother. I hate her stupid mother. She hasn't been around. She has never been around. And she forgot Elena's birthday. What kind of mother forgets their own daughter's seventeen birthday?"

"Okay. Calm down," Giuseppe said, taking his hands off of Damon. "What are you going to do, Damon? Drive there, knock on her door, and then what? What are you going to say?"

Damon found the file and emailed it o himself.

"Damon?"

"I don't know, okay? But she keeps hurting Elena, Dad. She keeps hurting her and making her sad and Elena just keeps taking hit after hit and she won't say or do anything about it. And I'm pissed and I hate her and I want her to know that."

Giuseppe nodded slowly, his eyes tired. "Okay," he said, then unlocked a drawer on his desk that housed all the important things: birth certificates, wills, Lillian's engagement ring. He placed the family emergency credit card on the desk in front of Damon. "The truck needs gas."

Damon left early so he could be back early. He wouldn't be going to school and he wouldn't be telling Elena why, so he knew she would be going to his house to check in on him. Her old house was four hours away, and it didn't give him much time to make any stops. He skipped his morning run, ate breakfast on the way.

Elena's old house was four times the size of the one she and John lived in now, and it just pissed Damon off more. John had given up everything, including the house, in the divorce, and now they were scraping for pennies and Elena had to work to save for college just so her stupid mom could live that life.

He didn't bother knocking on the door. He kicked it. Over and over. "What the hell?" was Isobel's response when she opened the door. The moment Damon saw her, he hated her more. She looked like Elena. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes. "Want to tell me why you are literally kicking down my door, kid?"

His heart pounded so fast he couldn't count the beats. With shaky hands, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the picture of Elena blowing candles from the night before. He showed it to her. "I just thought you might want to see what your daughter looked like on her sixteenth birthday."

Her jaw dropped.

"It was yesterday, just in case you had completely forgotten everything about her. She ordered lobster. She didn't like it. Then we went back to my house and my family gave her presents and we sang Happy Birthday and she had cake and danced with my dad to his wedding song with my mom. My mother is dead now, but she loved your daughter, more than you ever will, more than you ever have. And I'm kicking down your door because I'm imagining it is your face—" She gasped, but he kept going. "Quit making her cry. Quit hurting her. I hate seeing her sad and I hate you. It would be so easy for her to hate you, too, but she doesn't have it in her heart because her heart is beautiful. She is beautiful. And you are missing out on all that beauty because your heart is black and ugly and full of hate!"

Damon shoved the picture in his pocket and turned to leave. He was halfway to his car when she called out, "You her boyfriend or something?"

He froze, his feet glued to the ground. Then he shook his head, told her the truth. "I should be so lucky."

* * *

 **Thank you for all the support and kind reviews. I'm glad my readers enjoy this DE story. I'm having fun writing this story as well - how two kids become best friends and from friendship it develops more and more...  
**

 **When I wrote this chapter, I somehow felt that a lot of us tend to keep everything to ourselves and didn't want to speak up...We are afraid to take the chance, to take the risk but sometimes, if we don't, we will never find out...**

 **Enjoy:)**


	8. Chapter 8

_Year 2006_

Stupid alarm.

Every night he stayed here, there was his stupid alarm.

4:45 a.m.

Every morning.

Stupid, stupid alarm.

"Damon, your alarm. Get up. Go!"

With his eyes still half closed, Damon reached for his phone in Elena's hand, switched the alarm off, then threw it across the room.

She stared at it, expecting it to grow legs and made its way back to them. Did she mention it was 4:45? "But…"

"But what?" he grumbled.

"Your run."

"No," he murmured, digging his head in the pillow.

"No?"

"No."

"But you run every morning."

"Not today," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and manoeuvring her until she was lying back down. "Let's sleep in."

"Sleep in?"

He moved closer. So close that when he said, "Leave it alone, Elena," she could feel his warm breath against her neck.

"Okay…?"

"Good."

Ten minutes later Elena was wide awake, lying on her back, Damon's hand flat on her stomach. She listened to him breathe, felt the goose bumps pricked her skin, felt an overwhelming amount of emotions. It was not the first time they had been this close physically, but there was something different, something off. And there was this nagging in the back of her mind that was telling her this should be the last time. She wanted it to be the last time. Because having Damon here was too much, and at the same time, it was not enough. It wouldn't ever be enough.

She was going crazy, wasn't she? She didn't even know what she wanted.

Without warning, his fingers started strumming against her skin. "Can't get back to sleep, huh?"

Elena shook her head, but refused to look at him.

Damon removed his hand and untangled his legs from hers, and she exhaled, relieved, hoping he would leave. "Do I have sweats here?" he asked.

"Bottom drawer."

She sat up halfway and watched Damon move across the room—one hand in his hair, the other covering his parts. She would be lying if she said the attraction to him wasn't physical because it played a part. Unlike her, Damon had changed a lot over the years. She was still Plane Elena, and he was no longer the cute boy she crushed on when they were twelve. He had joined the track team after that summer when they first met. After that, he had a growth spurt and never really stopped. By the time he was seventeen, he had dated more than his share of girls. Now, at eighteen, Damon Salvatore was devilishly good-looking, and a true legend in the track team.

Devilishly good-looking. Effortless charm and confidence.

Damon Salvatore.

He was too much.

He wasn't enough.

"Don't forget your phone," she told him, lying back down.

"I'm not leaving."

She glanced over at him just in time to see him pull on a pair of his sweatpants. "You are not?"

"Unless you want me to," he said, eyes on her.

After seconds of waiting and no response from her, he shook his head, his gaze shifting to the floor. "I'm going to brush my teeth, and then we are going to talk because something is going on with you and we need to deal with it."

He made his way to the bathroom, and Elena followed behind. It was a routine they had done many times before; they stood in front of the mirror, brushed their teeth, took turns to spit, passed each other the mouthwash, then she left so he could do his business, and when he was done, she did hers.

Damon was back in bed when Elena got out, his gaze fixed on the bathroom door, waiting. "So?" he said.

She shrugged. "So."

He patted the spot next to him, and reluctantly, Elena did as he suggested. She lied beneath the covers and waited for him to put his hands on her, somewhere, anywhere, it didn't really matter. He opted for his fingers on her forehead, pushing away her bangs so he could look in her eyes. "What goes on, Elena?"

She shrugged again, but there was a backlog of tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat and she knew Damon could see it because his eyebrows bunched and he moved closer again, so his head was on her pillow. "Was it about the party last night? The whole class was invited and if I thought that you would go—"

"It is not about the party."

"Then what?" His voice was soft, unmasking his concern. His gaze fixed on hers while hers searched his and she found nothing. Not a damn thing.

He licked his lips, his eyes narrowing even more. "Are you worried about school starting tomorrow? Because if you are, you don't need to be. It is only senior year…"

"Why do you come here, Damon?" she cut in.

He moved back an inch. "In general or…"

"Why do you spend nights with me instead of going home or sleeping at one of your many girlfriends' houses?"

Damon pulled away and faced the ceiling. "Don't do that, Elena."

Elena leaned up on her elbow and looked down at him. "Do what?"

"Make me out to be something I'm not. Yeah, I have had a lot of girlfriends, but I have never been with more than one at a time and you know that."

She looked away, the guilt quick to consume her because he was right.

He said, his voice low, "I come here because I like being around you, Elena. Because my own home doesn't feel like home unless you are there. Because I want to know what is going on in your life and I want to tell you what goes on in mine. Because you are there for me through every breakup, through all the shit that goes on with my family, through everything. And mostly, I come here because I want to." He inhaled deeply. Exhaled loudly. "Is this what it feels like to have someone you care about break up with you because if it is, I think I'm done with dating." He rubbed his chest right above his heart. "This feeling sucks."

There was power in his words that went directly through her ears and pierced her heart. But she reminded herself that it was a lie. He didn't care about her. If he did, he would remember. "Damon…"

His gaze moved to hers, his eyes revealing his pain. "Did I do something?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

She blinked, pushed back the emotions, the tears. "No," she lied.

"Then what the hell is going on?"

She lied back down, her head landing on his already outstretched, waiting arm. And she tried…she tried to come up with a lie so that they could move past this. So that his actions, or lack of, from the past twenty-four hours didn't define him or them or their entire friendship. And so she gave him a half-truth because right now, it was all she could offer. "The summer is almost over and summers remind me of your mum and how great she was. And I miss her, I guess. I just…" she trailed off, unable to finish with the lump lodged in her throat. So maybe it was more than a half-truth. Maybe it was all she needed to feel, needed to say. Maybe it was everything. "I really miss her."

"Why didn't you say something?" he whispered.

"Because she is your mum. I have no right to miss her."

Damon pulled her closer until she was on her side and her head was resting on his chest. Then he kissed the top of her head and wrapped both his arms around her. "She may be my mum but she loved you beyond words, Elena Gilbert. And next time you feel like this, tell me and we can miss her together."

x x x

Even though Elena told Damon what was going on, she still seemed distant, still lost, and he knew she wasn't giving him everything. He tried to get more out of her, but she kept changing the subject and after a while, he had no choice but to let it go. So, they spent the rest of the morning talking about anything and everything other than her feelings. He was pretty good at reading most girls, but Elena…she was something else. She was different. The truth was he didn't make too much of an effort with other girls, but he wanted to with her. She was more than a fling, more than a random attempt to pass the time. She meant a lot to him…in fact, she meant the world.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" she asked, her head still in the crook of his arm.

"Well, it is Sunday, so family breakfast—which I'm dragging your ass to—and then…" Damon turned to his side so he could face her. "I was thinking of driving down to Hampton. I hear there is this amazing craft store that—"

Elena sat up, her smile instant, and Damon knew he had said the right thing. "Shut up!"

"I could use the company on the long drive."

Her eyes rolled, but she was still smiling. Damon liked to see her smile. God, her smile did something to him. "It is only an hour away."

"So…you are coming?"

"Why would you spend your last day of summer sitting bored in a craft store while I—"

"Because you are sad and—"

"Damon…"

Damon took her hand and placed a kiss on the centre of her palm. A simple kiss. A restrained kiss. A kiss she had no idea drove him insane. "I don't like seeing you sad, Elena."

Most people hated Sundays. It was the day before the norm of the routine began again. Work, school, whatever.

But Damon was not most people.

Up until a few months ago, Giuseppe had hired a full-time servant who lived in the garage apartment that belonged to Damon now. Giuseppe let her go a few weeks after Stefan got his license. Anyway, Virginia (the servant) started Sunday family breakfasts—a way to reconnect the family all so they knew what was going on with each other. Now Damon cooked breakfast together with Giuseppe and Stefan on every Sunday. Stefan was a horrible cook, but he and his father grinned and tolerated it because he was Stefan and they loved him.

So, Damon liked his family.

He liked the one day a week that brought them all to the same room at the same time to do the same thing.

He liked Sundays.

Newton rushed out to greet Elena with enthusiasm whenever she came to the Salvatore house. As always, the sight of the dog hurrying towards her made her smile.

She smiled as she crouched to scratch Newton behind the ears. He gave a discreetly muffled whine, quivered with pleasure, and licked her hand.

"Hello, Newton. You are as handsome as ever."

Newton bounced a little in refined appreciation of what he obviously considered no more than his due.

"You are staying for breakfast I assume?" Giuseppe asked her, kissing her on the cheek.

Elena smiled at him. "If that is okay."

"Of course!" Over his shoulder, he said, "Damon, set up another place for Elena."

Stefan didn't say a word as he was stuck doing the dishes. He was seventeen, and Damon guessed in his mind he had to hate the world. Giuseppe had completely set on the idea of Stefan being the first Salvatore to end up in juvie or rehab initially after Lillian passed away but Stefan had surprised the family without getting himself into trouble.

Elena didn't seem fazed by Stefan's attitude, though, and slowly made her way over to him. She nudged his hip with hers and says something too quiet for Damon to hear. Stefan glanced at her then dropped a spoon back in the sink. He wiped his hand on a cloth before giving her a hug. It was quick, but it was real, and for Stefan, it was a pretty big deal.

"What else can I do?" Damon asked after he had set the place for Elena.

Elena was the first and loudest to speak, "You sit down. You have had, like, three hours sleep and a long day ahead. Relax." With a smile, she moved to Giuseppe working over the stove and reached up to grasp his shoulders and led him to his chair at the head of the table. "You, too, Giuseppe. You have worked hard this week."

"And me, too?" Stefan asked, eyebrows raised.

Elena laughed. "You finish those dishes."

He groaned but did as she said.

A moment later, Elena was moving around the kitchen as if she lived here, opening and closing cabinets, working on the stove, flipping pancakes and plating bacon. "Eat!" she ordered, so they ate.

Damon didn't. Instead, he watched her. And he found himself smiling, although he didn't really know why. She placed a plate of Giuseppe's regular Sunday breakfast in front of him and said, "Dad tells me the Lockwood development is ahead of schedule."

"Thank you," he told her. "And yes, your dad managed to get two weeks ahead."

"Something about council permits, right?"

"Right," Giuseppe confirmed, but he was looking at Damon. He waited until Elena was at the other end of the table, sitting down with her own plate before passing the butter to Damon. His smile reached his eyes. "It is like having your mother back."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and wonderful reviews. I'm glad my readers are enjoying this DE story as much as I do. This story will be bittersweet and some of the things that happened between Damon and Elena were actually real - I got this inspiration from a friend. She told me about her first love and it sort of strikes me about this story.**

 **Hope you guys/gals are enjoying this:)**


	9. Chapter 9

Giuseppe practically shoved them out the front door, thanking Elena for breakfast and telling her that she had helped enough and the rest of them would finish the clean-up. She had her license, but she didn't have a car, so Damon did all the driving for them. He got his license the exact day he turned sixteen. Giuseppe had taught him how to drive on their property from the time he was twelve. He taught her to drive the same way, too.

Damon didn't have a car at the beginning, so he drove the minivan whenever it was available. Then later, his father gave him the keys to the oldest, most beaten-up truck they had in the company fleet. Stefan was given Lillian's old car when he got his license. Damon worked construction and Stefan did admin work in the office to pay off. Even though there was no monetary value to pay off, both Damon and Stefan knew, that it wasn't about money. It was about the principal. The thing Elena learned quickly about the Salvatore was that while they had money, they didn't flaunt it or throw it around like it meant nothing. Both boys weren't spoiled, and because of their father, they knew the value of hard work.

"I got to get gas," Damon said, pulling into the gas station.

Elena reached into her purse. "I got it."

"Shut up," he mumbled, already halfway out of the truck. He filled the tank, and when he returned from paying, he handed her a Snickers bar. Without thinking, she broke it in half and gave back his share.

The drive was easy—Damon allowed her to use the stereo inside the truck so she could play her music, which was Justin Timberlake's album. Damon said he was not a fan, but she often caught his lips moving along with the lyrics.

When her phone rang and she noted it was John calling, she didn't hesitate to answer it by turning on the speaker. "Hey, Dad."

"Your mum called," he said, and Damon's eyes snapped to her.

"When?" he mouthed.

Elena could already feel the sweat forming on her brow because she recognizes the tone in John's voice—the anger mixed with worry. "When did she call?" she asked.

John didn't answer her. Instead, his voice rose, the anger overpowering his worry, and Elena wondered how much he knew, how much Isobel had told him even though she begged and pleaded for her mother to let her be the one to break the news. "Did you forget to mention that you had dinner with her last night?"

Damon slammed on the brakes so fast Elena had to extend her arm to catch herself on the dash. She glared at him, but he was too focused on pulling the car over in the middle of a busy highway of all places. "Damon!" she shouted, trying to grab onto his arm as he stepped out on the road.

"Elena why didn't you tell me?" John barked.

"Dad, it's—"

"What happened? What did she have to say to you?"

Okay, so Isobel must not have told John the why they met up. Just the how. And as stupid as it sounded, Elena was grateful to her for that. And gratitude, especially for her, wasn't something that forms easily.

"Nothing," Elena rushed out. "She was just nearby and asked to meet up. That's all. It is not a big deal, Dad. She just wanted to see how I was doing."

Elena gave him lie.

After lie.

After lie.

John said her name. Just once. And she knew him well enough to know it was because he had too much to say, too much insight into how Isobel worked. But he had built enough strength over the years to keep his thoughts to himself so Elena didn't end up hating Isobel as much as she knew he did.

 _But it gets worse, Dad._

"I have to go," Elena told him, hanging up and opening the door so she could get to Damon. At least he was on the passenger's side now, away from the oncoming traffic of the highway. His arms were outstretched, hands resting on the hood, head lowered because he finally remembered. She tried to touch him, to comfort him, but he stepped back, his hands raised. "Don't," he said.

"Damon," she said with a sigh. "It is fine."

Damon shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze. "It is not fine!" he shouted above the noise of the dozens of cars that seemed to pass by. "I'm such an asshole, Elena. You told me about the dinner. You asked me to be there for you. You even specified a time to meet you at the diner and I—"

"Forgot," she finished for him.

He started to pace, his strides long, toes of his sneakers kicking at the loose gravel beneath their feet. "You should hate me right now. I hate me right now."

Elena shrugged.

She did hate him.

For the hour she spent sitting in an almost empty diner on a Saturday night waiting for him, she hated him. But shed realize now that maybe her hate wasn't directed at him, her heart was just full of it and he wasn't around to redirect it.

"This is a deal-breaker, Elena." He stopped two feet short of slamming into her. "I don't even know why you are standing here right now. With me. You should have shut the door in my face last night." His eyes searched hers for a long time, and when she didn't respond, he asked, his tone solemn, "What did she want?"

She offered another shrug, which apparently was the wrong answer because Damon was grasping his hair, kicking at his tire. It was not the tire's fault he was an ass. "I wanted to hate you," she yelled.

A car honked its horn, the volume rising and fading as it drove past them and to its destination. She waited for the sound to dwindle before adding, "I think for a moment, I actually did. And when you showed up last night, completely unaware of the hurt you caused, I wanted to be done with you…with this entire friendship."

"And you had every right to!" he yelled.

"But—"

"But what? What could have possibly happened to make you change that?"

"You skipped your run!"

He stepped closer. "What?"

"You never skip your morning run and you did! And you lay with me and held me for four hours because you knew something was wrong, you were just too stupid to know what!"

He shook his head. "That doesn't excuse what I did, Elena!"

Elena wanted to push him. Shove him hard. Do something to physically hurt him because a part of her was still in that diner, waiting, wanting him there. But she had already forgiven him, so there was no point. "It doesn't matter," she told him.

"Of course it does!"

Now Damon wanted her to hate him, but she couldn't.

"You are my best friend, Damon, and you are standing here right now on the side of a highway telling me I should hate you while driving to a store an hour away. For me!"

"But—"

"It doesn't matter because you are human and you are flawed and you make mistakes." She stepped to him and hugged him quickly, afraid he would pull away again. But he didn't. He just held her back, his chest rising and falling harshly against hers.

She looked up at him, at his normally bright blue eyes now filled with guilt. "And when I felt like my own mum had turned her back on me, you gave me yours."

x x x

"You can go now," Elena said, sitting back in the car, the engine idle. "You have time." She was looking between the seats and onto the road behind them. Damon was looking at her. They should drive, but he couldn't. He didn't want to pressure her to talk, but she couldn't leave until he knew what was happening because he knew it couldn't be good. Anything to do with her mother ended in her misery. Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes weeks. And he felt as though he needed to plan his next move more than he needed his next breath.

He combed his fingers through his hair, pleading words filtering in and out of his mind too fast, and he didn't know what to say.

"Damon?"

He didn't bother sparing her feelings. "What the hell did she want? Why was she here?"

She blinked hard, probably trying to find a response that would both satisfy him and keep his mind at peace. But Damon didn't want any of those things. He just wanted the truth. He raised his eyebrows, relentless. He would sit here and he would wait for however long it would take for her to speak.

Seconds ticked by, then Elena inhaled deeply, her words rushed when she said, "When I was younger and my parents were still together, my dad set up a bank account for me." She was not looking at him. Not at his eyes, anyway. She was fixed on his T-shirt, at the faded Nike logo across the chest. "It was supposed to be a college fund." She swallowed. Once. Twice. "For the past few years, we have been putting money in there and saving. I guess when Dad set it up, he thought the bank required both signatures to withdraw any money…" Her voice broke and she looked up at him, her eyes wide, the shape and colour of almonds.

He knew where this was going, but he didn't want to admit it as much as she didn't want to say it, and so he said, hoping, praying she said yes, "So you need you and your dad to sign?"

She shook her head, and his chest tightened. He had heard enough of Elena's stories about her mother to know what she was capable of. The shakiness in his exhale revealed his fear. "This is bad, isn't it?" he mumbled, moving closer to her.

They were supposed to go to university together. It was their dream. Going to University of Virginia was their dream. They were going to do it together. His athletic scholarship was a sure thing because he had worked hard to get it. He pushed away other offers. He wanted University of Virginia because Elena wanted it. Because they had walked around campus, her hand on the crook of his elbow while she pointed out where she would be sitting when she sipped her coffee. Or where she would hide out at three in the morning trying to study because her crazy roommate she had already named Sasha listened to death metal and dealt ecstasy from their messy, tiny dorm room. She stood at the exact spot where she said he would one day pass out drunk, but not before sending her cryptic text messages to find him because he would just beaten a state record in the hundred-meter sprint and had celebrated a little too hard with his teammates.

University of Virginia was their dream.

Their future.

After clearing her throat, Elena told him, "When Dad got back on his feet financially, he looked into the account and saw that it hadn't been touched, which to him meant that she probably forgot about it. And I guess she did. Until she wanted to switch banks. So, when she went to close out all accounts, they must have mentioned my college fund and she—"

"No." Damon mentally blocked his ears. "Don't say it."

"She took all the money, Damon."

He blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing with the force of it. "And it is all gone?" he asked hesitantly.

"She used the money to pay for an in-ground pool in her house that my dad paid for, to be enjoyed by her new husband and his kids."

His fists balled, but he kept his anger in check. For her. "And she wanted to what? Rub it in your face?"

"Not mine," she said, her voice a whisper. "Dad's."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate her."

"Me too."

He reached over and covered her hand with his. "So, what does that mean?"

"I don't get to go to college."

"I really hate her," he repeated, his heart pounding.

She said, again, "Me too."

After moments of silence, he asked, "Are you going to tell your dad?"

"Eventually, yeah."

Damon was holding her hand now, his fingers laced through hers, his grip tight.

She added, staring down at their joined hands, "Dad is just so happy at the moment with Jules and everything, and I don't want to crush his spirit."

"And break his heart," he murmured.

"My mum has already done that."

His eyes met hers, her frown causing his own.

"We will still see each other, right?" she asked. "When you come home for holidays?"

"It won't be the same," he told her.

She sighed. Then a slight smile broke through. "I'm going to miss seeing your ugly face every day."

"Shut up. You love my face."

Her eyes rolled. "Yeah, it is like looking into the sun."

"So beautiful it hurts?" he asked, unable to contain his smirk.

"Blindingly painful."

"You like me," he teased.

"I tolerate you," she retorted.

Damon inhaled deeply, his smirk fading. There was a shift in the air—thick and overwhelming. "So, we only have a year," he murmured. He leaned in closer. Her eyes drifted shut the moment his lips found her temple.

She was too much.

She was everything.

"I'm sorry, Elena," he whispered. "About uni. About your mum. I should have been there for you, just like you have always been there for me."

* * *

 **I'm so glad that my readers are enjoying this new DE story of mine. Thanks for the support and the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate your support:) Damon is still a kid despite he is eighteen - it is difficult to decide whether you are really in love when you are eighteen. That's how these 2 young people are trying to find out how they feel about each other - there will be happy moments but also heart breaks:(**

 **Watch the space!**


	10. Chapter 10

Elena found out about the craft store a few months ago via internet. Apparently, she traded one Saturday shift for three Sunday shifts at the small movie theatre where she works so she could hop on a bus to check it out. When she told Damon that she had been, he got so mad. He gave her this huge lecture about how girls like her shouldn't be traveling on buses by themselves. He yelled, told her she was naive and she should have told him she was going so he could have driven her. Then she started getting angry back because she was crazy. She said that his anger was unjustified and that he was overreacting. He told her she was an idiot. She said he was stupid. They froze each other out for three days. Those three days sucked. So Damon apologized—even though he didn't really know what he was sorry for—and told her she was right. She wasn't. If anything, she was stubborn and clueless.

Still, he conceded. Like he said, those three days sucked. Elena forgave him quickly, then started on about how she was old enough to do what she wanted. It wasn't about her want to go visit the store. It was about her safety. So he told her that, which then led to another argument. Another three days of not talking to each other, and then, on the fourth day, she opened her locker and there—next to her psychology textbook—was half a Snickers bar.

So, Damon was a sucker who hated fighting with his best friend.

She was still wrong.

He was right.

The end.

"This place needs some form of organization," Damon whispered, hovering behind Elena.

"It is kind of what makes it amazing, though," she said, half turning to him, her smile uncontainable. "All this yarn and thread and patterns everywhere."

"Is there something you are looking for in particular?" he asked. It was not that he was in a rush to get out, but he was hungry. And antsy. He skipped his run and now he had all this built-up adrenaline, and he didn't know what to do with it.

She smiled up at him, and the adrenaline doubled.

He smiled back. "You have a list, don't you?"

"It is only a small one. I promise," she said quickly, her hands on his chest as if she was trying to calm him. Now she was biting her lip, her full, strawberry-tasting bottom lip, and an image flashes into his mind with what he could do with all that built-up adrenaline. It included her, her bed, and her lack of clothing.

 _Blink. Push out fantasies. Breathe._

He said, "Take your time. Honestly."

"You can sit over there," she told him, removing her hands from him and pointing to a chair covered in yarn. "Go on your phone or something. I won't be long."

"I left my phone on your bedroom floor."

"Oh."

"I will help you find what you are looking for. What is your next project?"

She seemed to hesitate. "A cross-stitch."

Without so much as a flinch, Damon was already making his way to the right area, "So we need to find all the right coloured threads, right?"

She nodded

 _Good. I can do that. It is time-consuming and mind-numbing and it will take my thoughts away from her, her bed, her naked in her bed,_ Damon thought.

She told John she had dated. Oh, hey random thought he tried to forget about. _Nice of you to sneak up on me like that._

He placed his hand between them, palm up. "List me."

They spent two and a half hours in the store without so much as a single complaint from Damon. Maybe because he still felt guilty about last night, or maybe because Elena was smiling and happy and no longer sad, because he wasn't lying when he said he didn't like seeing her sad. Or…maybe because he couldn't stop thinking about her "dating" other guys.

What did that even mean? She went on dates, then they dropped her off at home and she went to her room and knitted him gloves? Or did she go on a date, sneak the guy back to her room through the basement door and have wild monkey sex with them in the same bed he was just fantasizing about?

 _Wait! Am I sleeping in another guy's sweat and leftover sex juice when I get into her bed at night? What the hell, Elena?!_

"Are you okay?" she asked, sneaking up behind him. "You look lost."

She was right.

He was lost - drowning in visions of her with faceless guys having over-the-top sex in positions he had only ever seen on the Internet. Obviously, he didn't say that to her. That would make him insane. "I'm fine," he told her. "Did you see anything else you like?"

She nodded, her eyes bright. "And now that I'm not saving for college, I can buy all the things!"

He pouted, and her hands went to his chest again. _Maybe I should pout more often_ , he thought.

"We should finish up here and find somewhere to feed you. You look hungry."

Damon exhaled loudly and placed a hand on her waist, the other holding the basket filled with different coloured threads. "I am hungry," he told her, just not for food.

He tightened his grip so he could pull her closer to him. Her arms were at her sides now, her breasts pressed against his chest.

"Where is the list?" she said, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat, repeated the question. Her cheeks were red. She was blushing. Fidgeting. Her eyes wouldn't meet his.

Her body was reacting to his body. To the closeness.

Damon liked that she was blushing. That she hadn't pulled away. She turned to face the wall of threads but didn't move too far, her back was to his chest, his hand on her waist, the top of her head an inch below his chin. She smelled good. "What number are you up to?" she asked.

 _One,_ he almost said. It was not the answer she was looking for, but it was the only number in his head. He had one year left with Elena. One year to make her see him the way he saw her.

One.

He was holding her hand.

He didn't know how it happened, when it happened, but they were crossing the road towards a diner and they were holding hands, and not in the way he held Stefan's hand when they were younger, but in the way he held his girlfriend's hand. Because he had one of those…a girlfriend, not a hand. Rose had been his girlfriend for about six months, and she was the only girl he had ever stuck with through an entire summer. Rose's hair was shorter than Elena but she was still beautiful. She ran track, like him, and knew the demands and the self-control it took to be where they were. She was also easy—not sexually, but that, too, he guessed—but she was fun and they got along, which made Damon felt like an asshole for enjoying holding another girl's hand more than hers because like he said, she was his girlfriend.

"I'm still so full from breakfast," Elena said. "I'm probably just going to get a salad."

He laughed out loud. "You? A salad? You will be going straight to the back of the menu—dessert—and you will probably order two different ones."

"Or not!" Elena exclaimed, nose in the air. "I'm trying to watch my figure." She patted her stomach.

"Shut up. You have an amazing figure. Especially considering you do absolutely nothing to maintain it."

She stopped in the middle of the road, causing an oncoming car to brake and swerve slightly. "You think I have an amazing figure?" she asked.

 _This girl is blind. Naive. And also completely unaware of her surroundings._

He pulled on her hand and dragged her off the road and onto the safety of the sidewalk while he waved an apology at the driver who was cursing at them. "You do. But I would prefer it if you were alive."

He opened the diner door for her and she stopped just inside, scanning the place for what he knew was a corner booth, a table made for 4-6 instead of just the two of them because he knew what she would do the minute they sat down. She would dump the contents of the paper bag he was holding and mark off all the items on the list to make sure they got everything she wanted. And she would do it alone because she didn't trust him, all because of that one time he read her handwritten 5 as an 8 and got the wrong coloured threads and the store was closed the following day, a Sunday, and she couldn't finish her project on the weekend and Damon swore, she acted as though he had set her hair on fire.

They got a corner booth. She ordered two desserts. He ordered a steak sandwich and loaded fries, and she handed him her phone as soon as the waitress left because she knew he needed to work out how many calories he was about to devour to calculate how many miles he needed to run to burn it off. He typed in her PIN number, the same code she used for everything, a code he memorized from her bike lock when they were twelve. Then he glanced up at her. She was too busy, focused on marking the items off the list, which gave him a little time to go through her phone and look for any interaction with guys she might have dated/had monkey sex with.

Damon went through her text messages first.

 _An invasion of privacy? Maybe. A way to placate my insanity? Definitely,_ he thought.

The first three sets of messages were from whom he had expected. Him, John and Isobel.

Then there were a bunch with numbers but no names linked to those numbers.

 _Are we still on for tonight? One reads, dated last Saturday._

Damon frowned. What the hell?

"Having trouble?" she asked

He dropped the phone, caught red-handed, even though she would have never known if it wasn't for his guilt-ridden overreaction. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze dropping to the phone now on the table, a clear view of the message he had just read.

Elena smiled.

That was good. At least she hadn't picked up the fork and threatened to stab him in the eyes. "Was that an accident, or are you curious about something and don't want to ask?" she said.

He pushed the phone aside. "What do you mean?" he asked, feigning…he didn't even know.

"You seemed to have a reaction to me telling my dad that I had dated. I'm surprised you haven't brought it up yet." She said it so casually, like she was asking him about how many calories might be in the brownie she just ordered and not the copious amounts of sex she was having in their bed. Okay, it was not theirs, but it might as well be. Now she was ticking off items on the list.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

His jaw was ticking with the visions blowing up his brain. _Stop having sex in our bed!_

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, one arm on the table, the other balled at his side. "How many guys have you dated, anyway?"

Good question. Good start, he thought.

She shrugged. "A few."

"A few?" he asked, leaning forward. "A few like, between three and five, or a few as in…there's a number but you have lost count?"

She smiled again.

She ticked. Again.

Damon waited.

Elena looked up at him. "Why does it matter?"

"Why keep it a secret?"

"You have never asked before."

He sighed. "Do I know any of them?"

"Again," she said, her smile spreading. "Why does it matter?"

"I do know them, don't I? Am I friends with any of them?"

Her coffee arrived the same time his water did. She waited until he took a sip before saying, "Mason and I went out a few times."

He spit out his drink. "What?"

She was laughing, wiping at the list now splattered with his post-mouth water. Luckily, he missed her recently-purchased items. "We didn't want to tell you in case you were all excited about the prospect of your two best friends dating. Needless to say, it didn't work out."

"You are serious right now?"

Elena shrugged again. "It was toward the end of freshman year. He came up to me after school all nervous and he said he always thought I was beautiful but I was always your girl, you know? But then you dated a bunch of girls that year so he figured it was just in his head—you and me—so he asked me out, and I don't know…for a moment, he made me feel beautiful, so I said yes and we went out a couple of times. He was my first kiss."

Damon couldn't speak, too busy stewing, replaying her words over and over.

She went back to her list. Tick tick tick.

Then their food came and they ate and she talked but he barely listened.

She paid for their food, made another joke about not needing money for college anymore, and as she packed her stuff back into the paper bag, a girl approached, around the same age as them. "Hi," she said, smiling brightly between the two of them. She kind of looked like Roe, his forgotten girlfriend, the girlfriend whose hands didn't feel anywhere near as good as Elena's. Only the girl in front of them had blonde hair, wider hips, bigger breasts than Rose. "Are you guys leaving?" she asked, reaching into her pocket.

Elena smiled.

Damon nodded.

"Oh," said the unnamed girl. She revealed a piece of paper from her pocket and slid it across the table towards him. It had her name, Charlotte, and her phone number. She was grinning when Damon looked back up at her, but he didn't look at her long. Instead, he was drawn to Elena, to her reaction. She was focused on packing up her things. Too focused. Like she was avoiding the situation completely.

"Um…" He looked up at Charlotte, at her waiting expression. "I have a girlfriend."

"Oh," she said again, and then focused on Elena. "I'm sorry, I thought—" She covered her face, as if embarrassed. She was not, though. Any girl who had the confidence to approach a guy who had shown absolutely zero signs of noticing her couldn't possibly be embarrassed about getting turned down. "I thought she was your sister."

Elena found her voice for the first time since Charlotte approached and used it to say, "Oh, I'm not his girlfriend. Definitely more like his sister. It is cool."

He remembered the phrase suddenly… _sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?_

It was bullshit.

Words hurt.

 _Sticks and stones may break bones, but words dig and dig and dig deep into your heart until the hurt resonates, and your heart fails to remember the reason it beats in the first place._

For a moment, almost for an entire day, Elena was that reason. Until those words: Definitely more like his sister.

Damon drove home in silence.

She sat in the passenger's seat. In silence.

He dropped her off at her house. Still silent.

Then he drove to Mason's house so he could punch him.

He didn't.

He was not really a punchy kind of guy, no matter how badly he wanted to be. Instead, he looked Mason in the eye and he asked, "Why her?"

Mason said, knowing exactly what Damon was talking about, "What does it matter? I wasn't the one for her. And besides, you are two years late. That's two years too long. What the hell are you waiting for, Damon?"

* * *

 **Thank you for all the support and kind reviews! I got more than 100 reviews and I just can't believe my eyes! Thank you so much:) I'm so glad my readers are enjoying this story as much as I'm. I will try my very best to keep writing DE stories:)**


	11. Chapter 11

All blood drained from John's face.

He looked shocked.

Angry.

Furious.

He and Elena sat at the kitchen table while his new girlfriend, Jules, sat in the living room, a glass of wine in her hand. It was the first time Elena had met her and Elena wished she could have left a better first impression, but there was not a lot she could do when she had spent the last hour alone in her room, an endless stream of tears running down her face, leaking into a pillow, a pillow that smelled like the boy that had caused her tears. She heard them come in, their voices loud, their laughter louder. Then John called her name, and she answered that she was inside her room, so he asked for her to meet his Jules.

He actually said, "Come meet my Jules."

Elena loved that he called Jules his. She would love that John called her his. She loved that he sounded so happy. So, so happy. But she also knew that she had to tell him about Isobel, and she knew she would be the reason why his happiness was short-lived, so she didn't bother wiping her tears, didn't bother hiding that she was going through some kind of emotional breakdown. She wanted the news to come from her, and it had to be soon because she didn't want to give Isobel that victory. They had given her enough.

"I'm so sorry, Elena," John said, his voice breaking. "I should have been more diligent. I just…"

"You can't blame yourself for this, Dad."

"We saved for so long. You have worked so hard the past two summers for this."

"It is what it is. There are other colleges, financial aid. I can always go to community college or whatever."

"But University of Virginia is your dream."

Because Elena wanted to be close to Damon. Because she didn't want to leave him alone. But in the past year, he had started dating again and he was on his feet and his social life had taken off and he didn't need her around. "It is what it is," she repeated and came to a stand. "Go be with your girlfriend, Dad. Enjoy each other's company. You deserve it." She smiled, but it was forced.

"Elena," he said. "How was your day with Damon?"

She shrugged. "It was the same as always."

"You seem to be taking this college news pretty well. Did he say or do something to make you feel better about it all?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He did." Damon made her realize that no matter where they were, how far away from home they were, things wouldn't change. So what if they had another few years together? It was only a few years. After that, he would go off and do his own thing, and she would do hers, whatever that might be, and nothing would change. Three years ago, she had the same thought. They had four years of high school together. Maybe then he would look at her differently. He would look at her the way he looked at any one of his past girlfriends. Or the way he looked at the girl at the diner today. He would blush when Elena would smile at him the way he did with the girl.

But he teased her all day. His hands, his words, his everything. He liked the attention she gave him, the way she would blush when he jokingly flirted with her.

Because that was how they worked, Damon and her.

He was a tease.

And she was a joke.

x x x

Damon wanted to kiss Elena.

He had wanted to kiss her since the moment he saw her.

But they were twelve. It would have been weird.

Now he was eighteen, and he had kissed enough girls to make up for all the pent-up angst that had built from not finding the courage to actually kiss the girl he wanted to kiss.

Elena told her father that she had dated. She had never told him she dated, never even mentioned a date or a guy in passing. And it made him wanted to kiss her more. He didn't want to bring it up because he knew she had other things going on, but he was curious. So he asked, and she answered, and her answer made him furious.

Curious and furious.

"Watch!" Stefan demanded.

He pushed aside his thoughts of Elena and focused on his brother. "I see, bud. You are getting good at brushing your teeth on your own," he told Stefan through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Stefan rolled his eyes. "This isn't funny, Damon."

With a sigh, he said, "I know. You are a big boy now, brother."

"Damon, will you buy me a four hammer? Dad says I have to do chores. But you will just buy it for me because I'm your best friend, right?"

Damon shook his head. "If Dad says you have to do chores, then you have to do chores. And you are not my best friend. Elena is."

"And Mason the moron."

"Don't call Mason that."

"Why not?" Stefan asked. "Everyone else does."

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because I said so."

"Fine," Stefan moaned, switching off the light. "Elena is my tooth fairy."

"What?"

"Dad said she is there to watch out for me and take care of me if no one else can."

"You are not a child anymore. You don't need her to take care of you."

They walked back to Stefan's room and Stefan sat on his bed. "Remember that time when you weren't here to take care of me?"

Damon's eyes narrowed, his mind searching. "When I was at track camp?"

Stefan nodded. "And New Jersey at the start of summer."

Damon sat next to him. "How do you remember track camp? That was three years ago."

"I have good memory."

"Okay." Damon closed his eyes, the exhaustion quick to consume him. He hadn't slept much last night, and he had been out with Elena most of the day. He was almost tempted to sleep in Stefan's bed with him, but the second he closed his eyes, Elena filled his mind.

He wanted to kiss her.

When she told him she would miss seeing him every day—he wanted to kiss her.

"Do you love Elena?" Stefan asked.

His brother read minds. "What?"

"Do you love her?"

"Yes," He told Stefan truthfully.

"Like Dad loves Mum?"

Damon wanted to kiss her when they were in that store, his hand on her waist, her chest against hers. He wanted to dip his head, find her lips with his and devour them the way he had only ever dreamed about.

"Damon!"

"What?"

"Do you love her like Dad loves Mum?" Stefan asked again, his green eyes big and waiting.

"How do you think Dad loves Mum?"

"They had sex," Stefan said simply.

"What the…what the hell did they teach you in school?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

Damon stood up. "Go to sleep."

"Did you?" Stefan shouted, but Damon was already rushing out of his room. "Do you and Elena have sex?" he yelled, louder this time.

Giuseppe froze at the top of the stairs. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

Damon nodded. "I don't know where he got it from."

Surprisingly, Giuseppe grinned. "So, do you?"

"Do I what?" he asked, bouncing on his toes, anxious to leave.

"Do you and Elena have sex?" Giuseppe asked, arms crossed, waiting for Damon's response.

"I have a girlfriend!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Stefan said, stepping out of his room.

Damon frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," Stefan said, eyes narrowed.

"So, you two are having sex," Giuseppe said with a chuckle.

Damon sighed. "This is how rumours get started."

"I don't think they are having sex," Stefan mumbled.

"How do you know?" Giuseppe asked.

"Because Elena is smart and beautiful and way too good for Damon."

"What the hell is so wrong with me?" Damon whined.

* * *

 **Thank you for the support and wonderful reviews. I'm so glad that my readers like this story:) Sometimes we do take a lot of things and people for granted, don't we? Treasure everything and everyone around us. Otherwise we will regret one day...  
**

 **Once again, thank you for everything! And go check out those amazing writers I have mentioned previously - scarlett2112, Rachel3003, VistAsh, delenadreams, Salvatoreboys4ever etc.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

Damon tried to get her off his mind, but the only thing he could think about was Elena.

One last year with Elena.

Sure, he would see her on holidays, and he would make sure to come home on weekends whenever possible, but it was not the same. He would be gone, living a life where she wouldn't be around to call him out on his screw ups, and she would move on and live every day without him. He hated the fact that he wouldn't be able to crawl into her bed whenever he felt the need to be close to her, but he was positive she would fill those nights with date after date, guy after guy. All of them not him. That thought alone had his stomach doing somersaults and his heart beating wildly. He almost thumped at his chest, mad and frustrated with himself, because he only had one year. Just one year to make her want him the way he wanted her. She listened to him talk about girls, about his awkward first time, and she never mentioned anything. Not a damn word. And now he was mad. At her. Because she should have said something, right?

Without thinking, Damon slipped on his running shoes and headed out. He had zero knowledge of the time. It was seven when he was talking to Stefan, but who the hell knew how long he had been in his apartment, pacing back and forth, trying to push thoughts of her out of his mind.

He had felt closer to her today. Closer than he had ever felt. And not just physically. He felt like there was a giant clock hanging over him, counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds until…he couldn't even process what would happen when the final second ticked over.

Before he knew it, he was at a crossroads. A literal crossroads. He hadspent day after day here—the only part of his routine run where he stopped. He looked left. Looked right. Not for the cars, but for guidance. Right brought him past Elena's workplace, towards the school, and a couple more rights took him home.

Left?

Left brought him to her.

With two fingers on his pulse, he attempted to count the beats, but the numbers were blurred, his concentration drowning in thoughts and images of her.

She looked good today.

She smelled even better…

Damn, he almost lost his mind.

He was still losing his mind.

He took the 468 steps to her door.

He knocked once.

Twice.

On the third time, Damon began to panic, because he didn't know what he was doing here. He turned to leave, but the door opened and his panic tripled.

"How dumb am I? I tried calling you," Elena said, and he faced her.

She was looking right at him, her hair damp and loose, cascading around her shoulders.

He blinked.

"Your phone, right?"

She was not wearing pants.

Jesus.

He swallowed hard

She was wearing on oversized shirt—her father's work shirt—and nothing else. Well, maybe something but he couldn't see it, and so he let his imagination took him away.

"Damon?" She waved a hand in his face. "Are you here for your phone?"

When Damon didn't respond, she said, "How long have you been knocking? I was in the shower."

 _Goddammit. Now I have naked Elena in the shower in my head,_ he thought.

"Damon!"

Of all the things he could say, he had chosen to tell her, "My name is on your shirt."

"What?" she asked, looking down at her chest. Then she glanced up, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Salvatore Construction," he said because apparently she needed help reading. "My name."

She shook her head. "It is not your name."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Is so."

She spined on her heels and walked farther into her room, leaving the door open for him to follow. Which he did. Because did he mention she was not wearing pants! She had got legs for days and didn't even know it—this he learned the summer they were fifteen, and she showed up at his house in a bikini top and cut offs and kept asking why he was walking behind her, looking down at her shoes. He wasn't looking at her shoes. Obviously.

She walked to her desk, hidden beneath the staircase leading to the rest of the house. "I think it is dead," she said, her back turned. Damon stood behind her, looked over her shoulder, and sniffed her. God, she smelled good. Her shoulders straightened, but she didn't turn around. "Did you just sniff me?"

He ignored her question, moved closer to her. Just an inch. His chest was touching her back, her bare legs skimming his. And he asked her something that had been infiltrating his mind all day. "How far do you go on these dates?"

"What?" she breathed out. Her breaths were rapid, matching the rise and fall of her chest. "Are you still going on about this?"

"I haven't stopped thinking about it," he told her truthfully.

She was struggling to breathe now.

So was he.

Elena turned slowly. Her dark eyes met his. "Do you want to charge your phone?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Yes," he said, but neither of them made a move to do so.

She stared

He stared back.

Eight seconds.

Eight heartbeats.

Her throat moved when she swallowed. He zoned in on the movement and licked his lips, wanting them there, kissing her, tasting her. "Do they touch you?" he murmured. Her gaze dropped, and his hands were quick to move. One went to her waist, the other to her chin. He made her look at him. "Do they?"

"Damon."

"Where do they touch you?"

"Who?"

"Any of them. All of them." Jealousy could make someone insane. Damon was a proof.

Her hands were on his chest. He liked her hands on him. Anywhere.

 _Keep touching me, Elena._

She was fighting against herself. He could see it in her eyes. In her fists, balled against him. She wanted to push, but she wanted him closer.

 _Choose to be closer, Elena._

She pushed. "I hate when you do this."

"Do what?"

"Tease me."

Damon almost laughed. Almost. She had no idea. "You think I'm teasing you? You are the one who answered the door without pants."

"I knew it was you," she whispered.

"Exactly."

She shook her head again, her arms extended, palms an inch from his skin. There was space between them. He didn't want space. He wanted her.

One year.

Tick. Tock.

She said, "You didn't come here for your phone, did you?"

His lips twitched. Curved.

Hers did the same.

She leaned back against her desk.

He leaned into her.

No more space.

He said, "I came here for you."

"Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you, Elena. Because I want to wipe the memory of every other asshole who has ever touched these lips." He skimmed his thumb across her bottom lip, and her eyes drifted shut. Her lips parted. His thumb was in her mouth now, against her tongue, her soft, wet tongue, and Jesus Christ, he had never been this hard in his life and he had barely touched her.

His mouth watered.

His pulse pounded.

She sucked harder.

"Damn."

She released his thumb and her hand curved around his nape, pulling him to her. Her legs spread, welcoming him. His mouth was on her neck, on her throat, right where he wanted to be. She arched her back, made a sound that had his knees buckling, collapsing into her. She was warm between her legs and she was moving, searching, wanting. He finally, finally, went for the kiss. Her mouth was open when he got there, her tongue warmer on his own than it felt on his thumb, and she was grinding, grinding, moaning, moaning. And he was falling, deep, deep, deep into her web, and he swore, if she kissed every guy the way she was kissing him he was going to find every one of them and kill them dead.

Damon wanted to rip her shirt open and devour her breasts. But he took his time. He reached up, undo one button. Another. His mouth didn't leave her. Her fingers were in his hair. Tugging. Pulling. She broke he kiss. He missed her lips. Another button and he was kissing her collarbone, listening to her made those sounds.

His body wanted her.

His mind knew he had to have her.

Another button.

Then: "Damon, wait."

Damon froze. He blinked hard and kept his mouth on her. He tried to stay focused on her. On here. On now. And not where he wanted them to be in ten minutes. Each and every one of her exhales hit him like a punch to the gut, bringing him back to reality. She said, "I have forgiven you for a lot before, and if this is some weird territorial thing because you realized I have been with other guys, then you need to leave. Now. Before we do something we will both regret and can't take back."

Each word was like rapid fire going off in his head. He tried to stay calm. But it had been four seconds, eight heartbeats. Thump thump thump. "We were supposed to have college," he murmured, his mouth was suddenly dry.

She wasn't pushing him away. Not yet.

So he kept going. "I was supposed to have a few more years to make you fall for me, Elena. For you to see me the way I see you and now…I'm not ready yet. I'm not good enough yet."

She tugged on his hair, made him face her. She was looking at him, concern deep in her eyes. "What are you talking about, Damon?"

"I screw up," he admitted. "A lot. I make stupid mistakes and forget important things, and as your friend, that's okay. But I can't be that if I want to be more, and we were supposed to have college, Elena, where I don't have to worry about my father and my brother. And there won't be this pressure to train so I can break Matt Donovan's stupid high school records and get to all-state. It will just be me and you and I can focus on you so I don't mess up and make mistakes and forget important things like you asking me to meet you after seeing your mum and I'm sorry. But I don't want to be sorry. I don't want to give you a reason where I have to be sorry. I want to be better."

Damon shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose because he couldn't he just said all that. To her. Spilled the truth he had kept secret for so long. Girl after girl, night after night, trying and failing at not thinking of her when he was with each one of them and now they were here: crossroads.

"Do you love me, Damon?" Elena asked, and he could tell from the weakness of her voice that she was crying. He wondered how often he had made her cried without knowing. "And I don't mean like a friend or a sister. Do you love me and want to be with me and only me? Because I need to know that you do. You have to show me. Anything less and this will ruin everything."

He blew out a heavy breath and opened his eyes to see her watching him, waiting. His response was instant. "I have loved you forever, Elena."

He went slow with her, took his time, and worshiped her body the way she deserved. She writhed beneath him, around him.

She came once on his fingers.

Another time on his tongue.

She wanted to do the same with him, but Damon knew he wouldn't last, and it would be messy and "We will have time for that later," he told her. Besides, he wanted to be on top of her. Inside her.

Elena kept condoms in a box under her bed. He didn't ask why. He didn't want to know. But he knew she hadn't done this before. He felt it when he entered her for the first time. She whimpered, and he asked if she was okay. He kissed her neck, her jaw. He stroke her hair. She whimpered again, and he asked if she wanted to stop. She didn't. "It is perfect," she said.

It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Every inch of her was perfect.

Damon wanted the moment to last forever.

But it couldn't

It was hard to control his body, his lust, his desire. Especially when it was connected to a girl he had been in love with before he had a grasp on what love was.

He pulled back, kiss her once. Her fingers strummed across his back. "It is okay," she whispered, then smiled. "We will have time for more later."

Elena watched Damon slipped his boxers back on, her long dark brown hair a mess against the white pillowcase. Her cheeks were flush, strands of her hair caught in the sweat on her brow. She was smiling, and he felt like a god that he caused that. He grabbed his phone off her desk and connected it to the charger on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for it to switch back on so he could make sure he had his alarm set. He would definitely need a run in the morning.

The bed shifted with her movements, and he turned to her, her fist wrapped around the blanket, covering her breasts so they were not revealed when she sat up to kiss his bare back. He liked that she found it necessary to hide parts of her even though he had already seen them up close. She was still shy. Still innocent. Still Elena.

Damon turned enough to kiss her forehead, taste the sweat. "You okay?" he asked again.

She shrugged, her chin on his shoulder. "I'm still a little sore."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

His phone powered back on and she laid back down, her fingers stroking his back. His phone vibrated, again and again, and his eyes narrowed as he picked it up, still connected to the charger. His pulse began to race because he had no idea how long he had been here, no means of contact, but if something were wrong at home, Elena would be the first person they would think to call. The alerts for messages and missed calls weren't from home, though. It was worse. His breath halted and the world shifted from this dream, this fantasy, to a harsh reality where the naked girl in the bed was not the girl who had been calling all day, not his girlfriend.

"Is everything okay?" Elena asked.

And the only thing Damon could say was, "It is Rose."

Silence passed.

He didn't count the seconds.

"Oh my God, Damon," she whispered, "What did we do?"

Damon turned to her, the girl he loved, and he gave her what she deserved. "You didn't do anything, Elena. This is all me."

"But—"

"But nothing, baby." He kissed her forehead and dressed quickly. She watched, thumb trapped between her teeth, tears in her eyes, and he knew she was hurting. She felt guilty, as if it was her fault this happened, but it was not. She didn't cheat. He did. He didn't even think of Rose—not once. He sat back on the bed and rested his hand on her leg. "Are we going to do this? You and me?"

Elena stared at him a moment, nodded once, but she seemed unsure.

"Then I have to take care of this. Tonight."

"Okay," she croaked, her gaze lowering.

"Elena, you know I would love nothing more than to stay here with you, but I need to do this."

"I know," she said, but she didn't. She was insecure, and he was not surprised.

"Elena."

She looked up and met his eyes.

"I love you."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? Damon finally told Elena that he loved her. But would they live happily ever after? Well, there will be happy Delena moments but there will be heart break too...sorry:(  
**

 **Anyway, thank you for all the support and kind reviews. I really appreciate them:)**


	13. Chapter 13

Elena expected Damon to call in the morning and offered him a ride, but then she realized it wasn't just their first day back at school; it was Stefan's first day too. So he would be busy making sure Stefan was set, probably fighting with Stefan to get him out of bed. She looked for him in the hallways, in the cafeteria, but their paths never seemed to cross. She figured he broke up with Rose last night and might not want to rub it in her face by openly seeking Elena out. Damon was an arrogant jock, but he had a heart of gold.

She sent him a text.

Two.

Three.

He didn't respond.

Elena started to get giddy, wanting, needing to see him, because she spent all night tossing and turning and remembering what it felt like to have him on top of her, inside her, whispering words of love. He told her he loved her, more than once, and that had to mean something.

Damon had track practice after school, so she went to the library and left with enough time to meet him outside the locker rooms when he was done. She stood in the tunnel that joined the field to the locker rooms, and she waited amongst the captured wind flowing in and out. She became cold, because even though it was summer, the sun was not on her, it was out there on the field with Damon. So she reached into her bag, pulled out a sweater, and shrugged it on. It covered her eyes, blinded her for a moment, and when she could see again, there was a guy standing in front of her—a guy she recognized but haven't seen for years. He hadn't changed much, though, same haircut groomed to look perfectly neat, same blue eyes, same smile on his face. He should be at University of Virginia, where he got in on the same scholarship that had been promised to Damon, not standing outside the locker rooms of his old high school. Matt Donovan was the typical golden boy. But Damon, along with many others, thought he was a dick. But he was also Damon's competition last year here. Even though they were technically on the same team, track wasn't a team sport. And if she and Damon had heard the rumours, so had he. Damon was set to break his records, take his titles. And that meant they were enemies, on and off the field. "You are Elena, right?" Matt asked. "Damon's friend?"

Elena nodded.

"You are all grown up," he said. His eyes trailed her from head to toe, and she didn't know what he was looking at.

"And you are still the same.

"Why so hostile?"

"I'm sorry," she said, and it was true. She didn't know Matt and she shouldn't be judgemental. "I'm just waiting on someone."

"Damon?"

She nodded.

"He was finishing cool downs when I left, so he shouldn't be long."

"Thanks."

"No worries." He pointed down the tunnel towards the field. "There he is now."

Damon stood centre of the tunnel, a silhouette against the bright backdrop. "Elena?"

"Babe! Wait up!"

Elena went still. She recognized the voice. She couldn't not. The voice had been part of Damon's life for the past six months. Rose appeared, another silhouette, and now she was holding his arm and Damon was letting her, and Elena couldn't see his face, or hers, because she was blinded. By the sun. By the rage. By the overwhelming heartache. And it was as if all air, all life, left her at once, and her shoulders dropped and so did her gaze because she couldn't look at them and she felt so stupid.

"You okay?" Matt asked.

She picked up her bag, the pieces of her shattered heart, and she hated tunnels. There was no escape. One way led her to the locker rooms, and the other way led her to them.

 _This is so stupid. I'm so stupid._

A hand curled around her elbow, Matt's, and he said, his voice low, "I'm trying to work out which one of you is the woman scorned."

"Go to hell."

Footsteps got louder and louder, echoing off the walls of the tunnel, and Elena was angry and terrified all at once. Matt put his arm around her shoulders and said, "I will give you a ride home, okay?" And he led her away, using his body as her barrier, and Damon said nothing as they passed him. Not a word. She got in Matt's SUV.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked.

The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

He drove, and by the time she pushed aside the rage enough to look at the time, an entire hour had passed. "You have been driving for an hour?" she yelled.

Matt laughed. "Well, I asked where you lived and you didn't respond, so I have just been driving."

"You are an idiot."

He laughed again. "Okay. I'm the idiot."

"What are you even doing here?"

"I'm giving you a ride home."

"I don't mean here, in the car. I mean, why were you at the school?"

He shrugged. "Training."

"Training?"

"Yes."

"You are supposed to be in University of Virginia."

"Family stuff," he explained. "So I will be here for a while."

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of family stuff?"

He chuckled. "Are you always like this, Elena G?"

"Don't call me that."

He changed gears, changed lanes. They were on a highway. He was taking her somewhere far away and he was going to kill her. Well, at least she wouldn't die a virgin.

"So only guys who treat you like their personal sex toy get to you whatever names they like?"

She scrunched her nose. "You are a pig."

"And you are mean."

Elena rolled her eyes.

He smiled. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot." He extended his hand. "I'm Matt Donovan. And you are?"

She reluctantly shook his hand. "Elena Gilbert."

His smile widened. "The girl with the blue dress and bright red cowboy boots…"

"What are you talking about?"

"It was the dress you wore the first day of your freshman year."

"You are kidding…"

"My eyes don't lie, Elena Gilbert." He winked. "So Damon did a number on you, huh?"

She pressed her lips tight.

"And let me guess. You are feeling pretty damn stupid right now."

Matt was right.

She was feeling so stupid.

x x x

There should be a limit to the amount of tears a person could shed within a certain amount of time. Or at least some kind of chart to verify the level of tears to the level of tragedy. For example, losing someone like Lillian Salvatore should equal infinite tears for an infinite amount of time. Being hurt by the spawn of Lillian Salvatore should equal, three sets of tears for three mess-ups and then said spawn should be deleted from her life, her mind, for all of eternity.

But there was no chart.

Just tears.

It was 10:30 pm when the knock sounded on her door.

Elena answered, but she didn't speak. She had nothing to say.

"Just hear me out," Damon said. "She called me over thirty times yesterday, sent me a ton of messages. I went to see her last night to break up with her, and when I got there, she was crying. Her brother was in a car accident over in LA and her parents flew right there and she was alone and she needed me and I wasn't there. She kept crying, Elena, like non-stop, and I couldn't get a word in and I couldn't do that to her. But I will. I promise." He took a breath. "You just need to give me time."

"Don't," she whispered.

"Don't what?"

"Don't break up with her."

"Elena, stop."

"Did you stay with her last night?" she asked, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Yes, but we didn't do anything. I swear. I have been trying to get away from her long enough so I could see you and explain it but with school and practice, I couldn't, and then you saw us and you saw wrong. You have to believe me." He paused a beat. "You believe me, right? Because I want to be with you. And you know that. But I can't break up with her right now. I just can't."

"You need to leave."

Elena started closing the door on him, but Damon stopped her, his palm loud when it smacked against the timber. "Elena, please."

She finally looked up at him, her tear-stained eyes meeting his sorry ones, and she was sick of his sorry eyes. Sick of his sorry face.

She blinked, let the tears fall, and she didn't wipe them away because she wanted him to see what he had done to her. She cleared her throat so her voice didn't falter. She wanted him to hear my words, and she wanted them to be loud. To be clear. "You need to leave because I don't want you here. I don't want you standing at my door, apologizing, trying to make me understand why I can't be hurt by this because I am. I hurt. And I don't want to hurt. I want to go back to last night when you made me feel beautiful, when you made me feel loved and worthy of that love. When I gave you something I had been holding on to that I can't take back, that I had been saving…for you. And you can't be here because having you here is making me forget that feeling, and I don't want to forget. I want to pretend like that feeling lasted more than seventeen hours, and I want to pretend like I don't hate you for it. Or hate you, period."

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? Are some of you crying already? I have to say I kind of didn't expect I would get such kind reviews for this DE story and I didn't really expect my readers would like this story so much. Thank you for everything!**

 **Check out those amazing writers mentioned in my previous chapters - zaewrites, Salvatoreboys4ever, Rachel3003, scarlett2112, VitsAsh, TheLittle Miss Vixen etc. schattentinte has attempted her first Delena story "When Love Meets Pride" - it is pretty interesting. Have a read if you have the chance:)**


	14. Chapter 14

Damon tried to be quiet, but he was crashing into walls, into chairs, into Giuseppe's giant desk in his home office. He got home from Elena's place and went straight to the garage apartment and drank every single drop of alcohol he had kept hidden from his father. But it still didn't erase the image of Elena's tear-stained face from his mind.

He thought he had it all planned out. He would tell her the truth, no sugar-coating, because she deserved that much. He didn't say it to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. He loved her. In his head, she would forgive him, tell him she understood that he didn't have it in him to hurt someone he cared about. And honestly, he did care about Rose. He just didn't love her. He loved Elena. Always had. If the roles were reversed and something happened to John, he would have spent the night with Elena. He probably would have spent the night with her anyway. He just wouldn't tell Rose about it. Rose didn't know he slept in Elena's bed. No one did. And maybe that was where I had messed up. Where his mistakes turned him into an asshole because in a way, Elena was his secret, hidden away from the eyes of his friends so they couldn't want her, have her. She was his. His secret pleasure. She didn't forgive him, obviously. She gave him her own truths, laid out her pain in detail so someone as stupid as him could understand. Then she slammed the door in his face and switched off the outside light, the light she always kept on for him. He should have expected it. But he didn't. And he stood outside her door, in the dark, and he knew it was over.

She told him, warned him, if he didn't show her he loved her, he would ruin everything.

 _I mess up, Elena. I make mistakes. I told you. I warned you, too._

"What the hell are you doing, son?"

Damon didn't bother turning to his father, too out of his mind to care. He kept going through his keys, one after the other, trying to find the one that would unlock Giuseppe's liquor cabinet so he could keep drinking the pain away, so he could drown in it, just enough to get her words, her face, her hurt, out of his mind. "I hurt her," he murmured, fumbling with the keys.

"Who?" Giuseppe said, his voice louder as he steps towards Damon. "Rose?"

"Elena. She hates me, and I hate me, and I can't get the hate out of me."

Giuseppe's hand grasped Damon's shoulder, pulled him back until he tipped over and landed on his ass. He wanted to cry, but he hadn't cried since Lillian died and he sure as hell wouldn't show his father, the strongest man he knew, how weak he was.

Giuseppe gently pried his fingers off his keys, found the right one, and a moment later, he was pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"Sit," he said.

"I am sitting."

He sighed. "On the chair, son. Sit."

"I'm fine," Damon murmured, standing up, eyes on the office door because he and his father didn't drink together. They didn't even talk. Not like this. They made plans, set schedules. They didn't talk.

"Sit," Giuseppe said, and this time it was an order.

Damon took the seat on the other side of the desk, , and he was nervous, afraid of what his father was going to say because Giuseppe just caught his eighteen-year-old son trying to break into his liquor cabinet at two in the morning and he loved Elena. They all did.

Giuseppe stayed standing when he poured the brown liquid into both glasses, then slid one across the desk towards Damon. "Did you drive home like this?"

"No," Damon told him. "I have been drinking in the apartment."

"Good. This family has already experienced one death. We don't need another."

Damon said nothing.

"Damon," Giuseppe said. "What happened?"

Damon finally looked up at his father, across the desk, past his sleep pants, beyond his white t-shirt, and into his worried eyes. He didn't expect to see worry. Disappointment, anger, yes. But not worry. For seconds Giuseppe stood there, eyes on Damon and when Damon didn't speak, his shoulders dropped and he sat right into the chair opposite Damon. He sipped on his whiskey, their eyes locked.

"Where did you go earlier?"

"To see Elena."

"Where did you sleep last night?"

"At Rose's."

Giuseppe nodded, like he already knew where this was going.

Damon added, "After I went to see Elena."

Giuseppe put down his glass, then placed both elbows on the table and leaned in, waiting for Damon to continue.

Damon swallowed. Nervous. "I told her I loved her."

"Rose?"

Damon shook his head.

Giuseppe's teeth showed behind his smile, but it lasted only a second before his brow bunched and his lips pursed. "But you spent the night with Rose?"

Damon inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.

Giuseppe was shaking his head now, side to side, slowly, slowly. "What did you do, Damon?"

Damon told his father everything, everything, his knees bouncing the entire time because they didn't talk, and now they were talking, and he was giving his father reasons to hate him like Elena did.

"Maybe she will forgive you," Giuseppe said, as if it was that simple. "She always does."

"This is different, Dad."

"She's going through a lot right now, Damon. Her mother coming to see her—"

"You know about that?" Damon cut in.

Giuseppe nodded. "John told me today." He took a sip of his whiskey. "I told him we could arrange a loan if it meant getting Elena to University of Virginia."

Damon's chest tightened. "You would do that?"

"Elena is like a daughter to me, and your mother loved her. We all do." Giuseppe's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. Giuseppe was not an emotional man but any thought, any mention of his wife could bring him to his knees. "I wasn't sure how you would react to her mother being here, but my truck has a full tank in case you need it." He stood up and headed for the door, but he stopped beside Damon, his hand on his shoulder. "Give Elena time. You are a good friend to her, Damon, and maybe that's all you can be, even if it is from a distance."

x x x

Damon took his father's advice, gave Elena time, gave her space. He hated space, but he needed it, too, because everyone had noticed his deterioration. Stefan saw it, but he didn't ask. Mason asked, but he didn't tell. The worst, though, was Matt Donovan. He pushed him, on and on—physically, mentally.

Rumour says he had taken semester off the track team and going back to his old high school to help coach because of some family problems. So now he was here, every Monday and Friday, and Damon was his pet, his project, his punishment. Only Matt was the one doing the punishing.

Elena didn't take his calls.

Didn't respond to his texts.

Didn't answer the door.

Didn't even glance in his direction.

Not until September 25th , the anniversary of Lillian's death.

He and Stefan didn't go to school on September 25th. They visited her grave.

His heart ached when he saw the crocheted flower sitting on their doormat, a sign that Elena had been here, that she remembered. Of course, she remembered. She was not him.

The first year anniversary, the flower was yellow. The following year, it was orange. Every year since, it had been a different colour. This year, it was green.

Damon picked up the flower and placed it on the mantel, along with the others, right next to a framed picture of his mother. Then he went to his apartment, changed from his suit and tie and into his running gear and he ran. He ran the same route twice before he found himself at the crossroads. He paused. Looked left. Looked right.

468 steps.

Knock knock.

He didn't expect her to answer, but if she was in her room, he wanted her to hear the knock and he wanted her to know it was him. And he wanted her to know he appreciated her and that he was sorry. For everything.

Elena did answer, her eyes red. She had the same look on her face that she did the last time he was here. Only he didn't cause these tears.

"Thank you," he told her

"You are welcome," she said.

Then she closed the door, dividing the space between them.

Damon hated space.

The days passed, turned to weeks, his mind a fog with zero clarity.

It was 11:49 pm. He knew, because he had been clutching his phone, watching the minutes ticked down. In eleven minutes, he would be eighteen years old.

Every year since he and Elena owned cell phones, she would call at midnight, on the dot, and over exaggerated the singing of Happy Birthday.

Every year.

Midnight.

11:59, and his thumb hovered over the screen, waiting, hoping, praying.

At 12:01, Damon felt that he was dead inside.

x x x

"And the school had such high hopes for you," Matt said, sitting on the grass in front of Damon while he did his own set of cool downs.

Damon took the bait. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean the fall season starts in a couple of weeks, and you are not even close to your PB."

"I will be fine."

"But that's the thing," Matt said, switching positions. "You are not fine. Track is a lonely sport, dude, and only you can control your performance. If your head is a mess, it shows in every stride, every millisecond you are out there."

"It is true," Mason agreed, running a hand through his hair. "And it is worse for cross-country runners like me."

Matt nodded. "You want my advice, Salvatore?"

"Not even a little bit."

"You are wound up. Something is messing with your head and you need to get rid of it." He pointed to his left, towards the girls' track team. "Go and find your hot girlfriend. Rose, right?"

Damon shook his head, eyes narrowed at Matt. Matt knew he broke up with Rose the day after he tried to explain it all to Elena. The entire school knew.

Matt smirked. "Oh wait, you are not with her anymore, right? Maybe it is that chick from my college?"

Damon had made out with a girl when he visited University of Virginia to get away from this bullshit, and when she got him in her car, he couldn't go through with it. He lied, told his friends that he had screwed the girl. What was he going to say? That he almost puked at the idea of being with anyone other than Elena?

"Jillian, right?"

"Shut up."

Matt laughed and motioned towards the locker rooms. "Or does your problem have to do with her?"

Damon followed his gaze to Elena standing just outside the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, adjusting the straps of her backpack. She glanced up, then down again. He was on his feet before he had time to register why she was here, just glad she was. His heart pounded, thudded hard against his chest, and he quickened his steps, widen his strides until he was standing in front of her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said back.

"You, um…You waiting on me?"

"Actually…" She looked over his shoulder.

"Hey, Elena," Matt shouted. He waited until he was standing next to Damon before saying, "I need to hit the showers so I will be a few minutes."

"No problem," Elena said, and Damon's inside turned to stone.

Matt patted Damon on the shoulder before strutting down the tunnel because he was a dick, and she had moved on and it had only been a few weeks. Damon stared at her, his chest aching, while she stared down at the ground like her shoes were fascinating. "So you and Matt?" Damon choked on his name, poison on his tongue.

Elena looked up, her expression unreadable.

 _Do you even miss me, Elena?_

"Your ex-girlfriend is coming. Does she know about Jillian?"

His shoulders tense, and he went still.

"Hey, Elena." Rose spitted. "Here to ruin another relationship?"

Elena's eyes narrowed at Rose. "No." She looked at Damon. "I'm here for Matt."

x x x

Damon had never lost his temper during Sunday breakfast. But two minutes ago he did. Stefan spilled his coffee on the table and he shouted at his brother.

The table went silent.

Now Giuseppe was looking at him like he had lost his mind. He had. Because this morning he went for his run and turned left at the crossroads. Matt's car was in her driveway. He could still feel the cold steel of her chain-link fence he used to hold himself up while he puked.

Stefan said, "What the hell, dude?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is this about Elena and Matt?"

"Stefan," Giuseppe warned. At least his father was on his side. He knew what Damon was going through.

"No!" Stefan thumped his fist on the table, and Damon's gaze snapped to him. "I'm sick of this. You have been moping around the house for weeks and it is bullshit. If you are pissed, be pissed, but don't be mad at her for finally seeing the light."

"Stefan" Giuseppe sighed, shaking his head. "That's enough."

But apparently, Stefan didn't think so. "She has had to sit around and watch you date girl after girl for a few years now. All these years she had kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to see her, and so she got sick of waiting! So what? She is too good for you anyway!"

"Why do you keep saying that?" Damon asked, his back straightened, his eyes on his brother.

"Because she is. You don't even know half the shit you have done to her because you are blind, Damon."

"Stefan, that is enough!" Giuseppe snapped.

Damon's jaw hardened. "You don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh yeah?" Stefan said, leaning forward, his eyes filled with rage. "When she was fifteen, she went through a jewellery-making phase. You remember that?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You remember when she set up a table at the craft market to sell them?"

He could vaguely remember.

"You don't remember because you weren't there. She sold three things that day. One to Dad and one each to Sarah and me. The worst part is that she told you about it, reminded you of it so many times, and you promised her you would be there. She had two chairs set up behind the table. One for her and one for you but you didn't show! You were here, in the lake, with Mason and a bunch of girls and you forgot about her. And she probably didn't tell you how badly you hurt her or that it even happened at all because that is who she is, and that is why she is too good for you."

Damon looked over at Giuseppe hoping his father would show some kind of sign that it wasn't true, that it never happened. Giuseppe nodded, but he didn't look at him. And Damon felt his heart sinking, anchored to the twisting knot in his gut.

Stefan stood, his fists balled. "Suck it up and quit being an asshole to everyone around you."

With that, Stefan left the kitchen.

"They are just friends," Giuseppe said.

"Stefan and Elena?"

Giuseppe shook his head. "Elena and Matt. John told me they are just friends. For now, anyway."

"I went to see her this morning when I was out on my run," Damon admitted. "His car was in the driveway."

"He comes home on weekends now that he is coaching over at the high school. He doesn't like Elena walking home from work late on Saturday nights, so he lends her his car. That's all it is."

Damon swallowed loudly, but the pain didn't fade.

"Eat up," Giuseppe said. "You got a long day of making it up to Stefan. Your brother worships you, Damon. Don't give him a reason to change that."

Damon forced a smile. "Maybe Stefan should worship someone better. Like Mason."

"Jesus Christ," Giuseppe mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Eat quick."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I'm really, really glad to know my readers enjoy this new DE story of mine. I know some of you are annoyed by Damon's actions. Well, he is 18. You know the transition period from adolescence to adulthood - you think you have grown up and know how to make a decision. But sometimes, you are still immature because you haven't seen the world yet. I believe sometimes one needs to fall down hard and learn it the hard way before knowing what is right for him or her.  
**

 **Once again, thank you for everything:)**


	15. Chapter 15

Matt didn't know Elena had a door that led directly to her room. He didn't know what her room looked like. He didn't even know what the inside of her house looked like. The closest he had gotten was where he was now, on her doorstep, knocking and waiting for her to answer.

She grabbed his keys off the coffee table and opened the door. "Hey."

"Hey." Matt smiled brightly, his body glistening with sweat from the run over here. His parents' house was fifteen miles away in a secure, gated community, and for the past three weeks (since he found out she walked home from work at midnight) he had lent her his car so she didn't have to walk. She tried to decline, numerous times, but he was adamant and she was frustrated, so she agreed. It wasn't the first time he showed that he genuinely cared about her.

"Thanks for lending me your car," Elena told him, handing him the keys.

His gaze trailed from her messy bed-hair to her flannel pyjamas and down to her cotton socks. "Nice to see you got all dressed up for me."

Elena shoved his shoulder. "Shut up."

After mocking hurt, he said, "Let me take you out to lunch. I will even allow myself to be seen in public with you exactly as you are."

She let herself smile. "You are going to regret that." And she stepped in the house, slipped on her shoes, shouted, "Dad, I'm going out for lunch!"

Matt didn't bat an eyelid. "Is your dad home?" he asked, following her to his car.

"Yep."

"Can I meet him?"

She came to a halt and turned to him. "Why?"

Matt shrugged

"It is not like we are dating, right?"

He walked past her to open her car door. "Yet."

Matt ignored the looks from everyone when they walked into the busy Mystic Grill. Kids from school were here, probably nursing hangovers from the night before. Families sat, enjoying their meals, and then there was Elena, pyjamas and sunglasses, and she was embarrassed for him. "Let's go." She yanked his arm, begging to leave.

"No." He pulled back, laughing as he did. "No regrets, Elena."

She swore "No regrets" was Matt Donovan's mission statement for his life.

After emotionally breaking down in his car the day after she was "smashed and dashed" upon, Matt finally drove her home. They stayed in his car, sitting idle in her driveway, while she waited for the pain to fade. She didn't want to go in the house, in her room, where memories of Damon would for sure invade her. So she sat, staring out the windshield until Matt broke the silence. "It might hurt less if you get it off your chest, you know?"

Elena didn't want to. Not with Matt. So he said, "Want to punch something?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Is her name Rose?"

Elena shook her head. "It is not her fault."

"So…I'm guessing that technically, she is the woman scorned." He paused a beat. "So why are you so mad?"

She faced him, eyes thinned to slits. "I could punch you," she told him.

He smirked. "You could try."

She did try. His arm was nothing but muscle. And so he laughed, put his car in gear, and reversed out the driveway. For the second time that day, she thought he was taking her somewhere to kill her, and as dramatic as it sounds, she didn't have it in her to argue.

Matt took her to his house, past the guard at the gate, through the pristine, quiet streets of his neighbourhood until his car was parked safely in his garage. He got out, opened her door, and said, "Let's go."

So off they went, through his enormous house, past the large kitchen, through the giant sliding doors, walked through the backyard, and into another building that housed his own personal gym.

"Take off your sweater," he said.

She scoffed.

He smirked. "We are about to get hot and sweaty."

"You are such a dick."

She started to leave but he grasped her arm, and when she turned to face him, he was holding a pair of boxing gloves. He pointed to the punching bag hanging in the corner of the room, strapped the gloves to her hands and said, "Better out than in."

Elena didn't know how long he watched her hit the bag, release her tears, yell out things, but when he stopped her, his arms went around her entire body, she felt weak. Weak and stupid. She collapsed on the floor and looked up at him. He held her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping her cheeks, removing the sweat mixed with tears. He seemed sad, sorry for the pathetic girl he didn't know. His eyes searched hers as he said, "I'm sorry he hurt you, but hurting yourself isn't going to change that. You can't control what people do or how they treat you. You can only control how you react to it." He squatted in front of her, his fist out ready to bump. "No regrets, Elena."

She inhaled deeply, let his words sink just as far, then she bumped his fist. "No regrets."

x x x

Today, the Salvatores skipped Sunday breakfast. Because today, John was coming over to the Salvatore house so that they could meet his new girlfriend. Damon was sure John would have told Elena, asked her to join them and she would because she did everything her father asked of her.

There was a knock on Damon's apartment door and for a moment, he thought it was Elena. But Elena didn't knock. She would just walk in, comment on the state of his apartment and then start washing dishes.

The knock sounded again.

"Yeah?" he called out.

"It is Stefan."

He got up, opened the door, sat back on the couch and stared at the blank television like he had been doing all morning.

Stefan sat down next to him. "I love this episode," he joked, but Damon didn't find it funny. After a sigh, he said, "I owe you an apology for what I said last week."

"It is fine," Damon murmured.

Silence passed. Stefan broke it. "She misses you, Damon."

Damon faced his brother, his heart in his throat. "Did she tell you that?"

Stefan shook his head, his eyes as sorry as Damon felt. "She didn't need to. We go to the same school, I see her around, talk to her sometimes. She is not the same. She never is when you guys fight like this."

"We are not fighting." Damon looked back at the screen. "She hates me."

"How bad did you screw up?" Stefan asked, and Damon could hear the frustration in his brother's voice.

Outside, a car pulled up, doors slammed, and Giuseppe shouted. "Elena is here!"

John and his girlfriend seemed happy, sitting at the picnic table out in the yard next to Elena while she plated up their food. The sun was out, shining brightly on both the families, but Damon's mood was dark, his conscience darker.

Elena said, "Hey, Damon," when she got there.

Damon sat opposite her, watched her smile, watched her laugh, and watched her be a part of his family.

Giuseppe said, "So Elena, how did you do with that piece you entered into that…that uh…"

"The clothing design contest?" Jules finished.

Damon didn't know she had started making clothes, but it was not surprising. She had been saving for a sewing machine for a while. His ears perked, waiting for Elena's response. She smiled at Giuseppe and poured ketchup on John's plate. "I got second prize."

Damon smiled, he couldn't help it. She saw his reaction but didn't have one of her own.

"That's great," Giuseppe said.

"So, Damon," John jumped in. "First track meet next week. You ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'm sure Elena will be there. She hasn't missed a single one," he said, his gaze on his daughter. "Right, Elena?"

Damon swore, if looks could kill, Elena just aimed a gun at John and pulled the damn trigger. And he hated this. He hated that it was up to their fathers to fill the conversation about parts of their lives they knew nothing about.

A phone rang, and everyone searched their pockets and purses.

"It's me," Elena said, raising her phone.

The ringing continued and Jules chuckled, "Say hi to Matt."

Jealousy coursed through Damon, spiking through every vein, every cell in his body. Not because it was Matt on the phone but because Matt should be him. It should be his name on the end of Jules' sentence, his name making his best friend's father's girlfriend cooed and batted her eyelids. It should be him she knew, not a guy who had only been in Elena's life for a few weeks.

Elena said, "He is picking up his car, so he is probably having trouble finding the keys. I will only be a second."

Damon hated that she was smiling as she brought the phone to her ear, hated the way she said, "Hey Matt" like they had been friends since they were kids.

They hadn't

He and Elena had.

And he hated, most of all, that he was the one who ruined it.

Jules said, "Why don't you ask your boyfriend to join us?"

Damon hated Jules.

Elena looked up, first at Jules, then at John. John shrugged. Since when did John make the decisions for her?

"It's behind the frog statue by the front door," Elena said into the phone. "Yes, it is, just double check." … "There is so a frog there." … "A turtle?" … "Oh yeah. Maybe it is a turtle."

"Ask him to come over," Jules said again.

Elena looked at Giuseppe, then to John. John shrugged again. "I wouldn't mind actually meeting the guy who has been taking up all your time."

 _Please no. Not here. Not in my own goddamn home._

Damon kept his mouth shut and made Elena decide on how badly she wanted to pierce his heart with her actions.

"I'm sure he is busy today," Elena said, speaking to John, but glancing at Damon. Her voice dropped, along with her gaze. She said into the phone, "You don't have to, Matt."

Jules leaned across the table and yelled out the address, and everyone laughed like this was some kind of joke, and maybe it was, and maybe Damon was the punch line.

"Really?" Elena said. "Okay, I will see you soon."

Three minutes, fifty-eight seconds, and Damon heard the familiar sound of tires spinning on the loose gravel of his driveway. He didn't look up when Giuseppe said "Matt? As in Pete Donovan's kid?"

John said, "I assumed, but I wasn't sure. I mean, I have never actually seen him before, just his shadow lurking near the front door."

"Dad," Elena whined, getting up from her seat.

By the time Damon found the courage to look up, she was halfway across the yard and Matt was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets.

"They look good together," Jules said.

"Maybe," John said, looking over at them.

"Of course they do, honey," Jules added. "He is her boyfriend."

"We are not too sure on that yet."

Everyone at the table turned to the maybe-couple now walking towards them.

Damon didn't know what to say or how to act.

He stood when Matt and Elena got to them. He shook Matt's hand and did his best to pretend like that act alone wasn't destroying him.

"Hey, Damon," Matt said, all casual like, and Matt Donovan might just be the first person in Damon's entire life he hated enough to punch.

Elena introduced Stefan, Giuseppe, then Jules, and finally, John.

"It is nice to finally meet you, sir. I have been asking but Elena, you know…"

John smiled at him, shook his hand, strong and firm. "She is a little on the stubborn side."

Elena said. "Giuseppe's brother Zach and his family are on their way, so you will meet them soon."

Matt smiled down at her. "I know Zach. My father and Zach do some business together."

"Right."

"Are you hungry?" Giuseppe asked Matt.

"God yes, and this food smells amazing, Mr Salvatore."

Giuseppe loaded up a plate for Matt and he ate, and Damon watched Elena watched him, a smile on her face, and Damon felt his heart ached a little more.

Matt looked at Elena. "This is cute," he said, tugging on the sleeve of her dress. "Did you make it?"

Elena smiled, looked down at her clothes and nodded once, her cheeks red.

He leaned closer, his mouth to her ear. "You look really nice."

She pushed him away, the way she had done with Damon so many times before. "Stop it."

"What?" he shrugged. "I missed you."

"Are you her boyfriend?" Stefan asked.

Damon shook his head, stared at the table.

Matt laughed. "I'm trying, dude, but she is not budging. If you can give me any pointers, I would really appreciate it."

Damon couldn't take it anymore. Being here, watching them, made him physically sick. He stood and said, "I have to go," and then he ran and ran and he had no idea whether he was running from them or from himself. The yards felt like miles, his strides like leaps, until he ended up at the cemetery looking down at his mother's grave and asking her if she was as disappointed in him as he was in himself.

* * *

 **I can't believe I have more than 160 reviews in such a short period:) Thank you so much for the support and kind comments. I will try my very best to continue writing DE stories and share them with my readers.**

 **Well, a lot of my readers are annoyed with Damon but trust me, in reality, a lot of guys do take things for granted. Even girls do the same as well. Treasure the things and people around you everyday because tomorrow is not a promise to everyone.**

 **Enjoy!**


	16. Chapter 16

Elena wasn't sure she wanted Matt there, and she didn't invite him on purpose. Hell, she didn't invite him at all. Jules did. So he showed up, charmed the crap out of everyone. Everyone but Damon. She got it. In a way, Damon had to deal with Matt at school, at track practice; he shouldn't have to deal with him in his personal space. But if Damon's reaction was about her with Matt, then that was something else. Something she shouldn't care about. Just like he didn't care about her.

"You could have told me I would be walking into the Salvatore's house," Matt said, driving her to work after the disastrous lunch.

"You didn't really give me a chance…you were all,"—she lowered her voice to mock his— "I'm totally down if it means hanging with you."

He laughed, stopped the car at a red light. Then he turned to me, his eyes on her. "When are you finally going to let me kiss you, Elena?"

"Shut up." Elena shook her head, looked up at the traffic lights, hoping for a green.

"I'm serious," he said.

"You don't want to kiss me, Matt."

"I don't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

 _Come on, light._

He settled her bouncing knee with his hand, and she choked on a gasp.

"Elena?

"Is this because of him?" she blurted out.

"What are you talking about?"

"Because of Damon…I know two of you are competitors…"

Matt inhaled deeply and removed his hand from her leg, placed them both on the steering wheel as he took off again. He kept his gaze on the road. Elena kept hers on him. He blinked, his long, dark lashes fanning across his cheeks. His wide chest rose, fell, but he didn't speak. Not until they were in the parking lot at work. He put the car in park and turned to her, his lips twisted. "So you heard that, huh?"

Elena nodded "It's not a big deal or anything. I just don't want—"

"This isn't a competition between Damon and me," he explained. "I swear."

"You don't have to explain, Matt."

"No." He took a deep breath. "I think I do. Or, at least I want to with you."

Elena swallowed, nodded for him to continue.

"I know you are close to him. You care about him." He rubbed his forehead, his face scrunched as if it actually physically pained him to tell her all this. "I wish I'm lucky like him to have someone to care so much about me."

Elena looked away. She didn't know what to say.

"Elena?"

"Yeah?"

"You are going to be late for your shift."

She felt hot, burning flames under his scrutinizing gaze, and her emotions hit her. Hit her hard.

Guilt.

Shame.

Both things she should not be feeling.

"You can kiss me," she croaked.

His smile was quick to consume him. Then he nodded towards the building. "You better go."

"But…"

"Oh," he said, his grin growing. "You want me to kiss you right now?"

Her stomach turned, her embarrassment flooding her. "No."

He chuckled. "Elena, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. I asked when you would finally let me."

"Okay, I get it." She waved her hands between them. "I got my wires crossed." She opened the car door, quickly got out and shut it after her.

"Elena!" he called, window lowered. He leaned over the centre console, made sure she could see him." I will pick you up after your shift. Take you to dinner." He winked. "First-date kisses are always the best."

Matt showed up to her work ten minutes before her shift ended and sat inside the ticket booth with her as if he owned the place. When she was done, he waited for her to clock out and then walked her to a black truck. "Where is your car?" Elena asked.

"In my garage."

"So…whose is this?"

"Eddie's."

"And Eddie is…a friend?"

"Our gardener."

"Of course you have a gardener."

He smiled. "I traded cars for the night, threw in a room at a hotel for him and his wife, too. Trust me, they are in for good times."

Elena got in the seat, buckled her belt, and waited for him to get in. "So why change cars?"

"Because I'm taking you out on a date."

"And you need a truck because…?"

Matt smiled. "Because this is where we are having said date."

She shook her head. "I'm so confused."

"I will explain later."

He drove to a Mexican restaurant, ordered a bunch of food to go, then drove back to his place, past the guard at the security gate and through the pristine, quiet streets of his neighbourhood. They didn't go to his house, though. Instead, Matt drove to the outskirts of his prestigious little community until they were parked in a spot that gave them a view of all the cookie-cutter mansions from a distance. And as she looked at the houses, she felt her heart plummet because Matt had taken her on a date, a date far away from everyone who could judge him for being with someone like her.

She felt like thirteen again. Sitting in a cinema next to a boy she was crushing on who didn't feel the same and she felt so stupid.

"You ready?" he asked, handing her a drink. He picked up the bag of food, stepped out of the car, and she stayed in her seat while she worked out what would be worse: sitting with him through their "date" or calling him out on it. Matt opened her door, and she stepped out, took his hand as he led her to the bed of the truck.

For a few minutes, he ate in silence, and Elena felt too sick to take a bite.

"Did something happen at work?" he finally asked.

She shook her head and faced him. "What are we doing?" she asked him, her voice cracking with emotion.

"You don't like tacos?" His smile faded when she looked up at him, attempting to hide her true feelings. "You are mad," he said, not a question, a presumption. He exhaled loudly, put his food down. "When I said I would take you to dinner, you expected something fancy, right?"

"I don't know." Elena shrugged. "Is it…" She took a breath and then another, and she decided to be honest because history showed that keeping her feelings hidden, secret, only led to disaster. "I feel like you are ashamed of me. Like you want to keep me to yourself…your dirty little secret."

"Never!" Matt said quickly. "That's not…" He rubbed his eyes, his frustration evident. "Look, I have done fancy before, Elena. I was twelve the first time my dad made me suit up and sit through one of his pathetic business dinners in the most expensive restaurant in town. And I have sat through many more since. For me, those places are nothing but lies and deception and no, it is not that you are my dirty little secret but yeah, I kind of do want to keep you to myself. Or, at least, I want to keep you separate from that. Because you have experienced enough lies and enough deception, and I don't want that for you. I really don't. But this is me, the real me." He waved his hand around them. "And if you are not into this then I can go home, change, and we can go somewhere else."

"That's not what I want," Elena told him, her voice low, her shame high. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, I'm glad you did. I want you to be honest with me because it makes it so much easier to be the same with you. Because I like you, Elena. Like, really like you. And I have taken a lot of girls to a lot of fancy places and it all ends the same way."

Her nose scrunched in disgust.

He laughed. "But I have never done this before."

"Tacos in a truck?"

Smiling, he said, "I have never been comfortable enough to just be me. And I don't know…you being here right now—it kind of gives me a reason to like who I am, you know? If you like me, then I can't be that bad."

Elena returned his smile. She couldn't help it. "You make me happy, Matt."

His grin widened, but hers fell. And then she asked him something she had been wondering her entire shift. "How is this going to work? Us dating? Is it, like, an alter ego for you? You go to college during the week and be this other guy you speak of and come home on weekends and be with me? Are you…" She cleared her throat. "Are you going to see other girls while you are there?"

Matt chuckled. "I figure it will pretty much be the same way it is now. I call you every night, beg for you to speak to me. Lose myself in your voice during the week, then satisfy all my cravings on the weekends."

"Your cravings?" She giggled.

"I crave you, Elena. I crave your company." He cupped her cheek, his lips meeting her forehead. "And your laugh, your smile, your touch. I miss you when I can't be around you, and when I am here I want more of you. Just you. There are no other girls. And there won't be."

"Promise?" she whispered, her eyes drifting shut when his lips hovered over hers.

"I could promise you the world, Elena, but it doesn't mean anything unless you trust me. And you have to trust me. You have to realize that I'm not him."

Elena exhaled, slowly, drink in his words. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

He pulled back, his grin promising. Then he released her, picked up his food again. He stared ahead while she stared at him, at the movement of his jaw as he chewed his food, his mind elsewhere. And she no longer felt guilty that she wanted him to kiss her. And soon.

"You always walk with your head lowered," he said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"Yeah." He nodded, wiped his mouth on a napkin. Then he turned to her. "It's like you are afraid of the world seeing you. Or, maybe, you are afraid that they do see you."

Elena dropped her gaze.

"You are a pretty exceptional girl, Elena. It sucks you think the world doesn't see you that way."

"You can't assume to know that about me," she told him.

"Oh yeah? You are doing it right now."

"Doing what?"

"Look up," he said.

So she lifted her gaze, and she did as he said There was nothing but acres and acres of empty land. "What am I looking at?" she asked.

"The world. Untouched."

She sighed, looked over at him.

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't you want to be the first to touch something? To reach out and grasp onto the world around you? You can't touch it if you can't see it."

A sob formed in her throat and she kept it there, his words replaying in her mind, over and over, because Matt was right. She had lived her life, almost eighteen years of it, but she had never really lived. Every hour, every action, every decision was made with Damon in mind. She didn't go to parties, hoping he would show up at her door, wanting to get in bed with her, praying he would see her differently. But the four walls of her basement bedroom weren't enough anymore, and when she was done with senior year, there was nothing waiting for her but those same four walls.

"Are you cold?" Matt asked, and Elena realized she was shivering. Whether it was from the temperature or her sudden fear about her future, she didn't know.

Still, he moved to sit behind her, his legs on either side, his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his thumb stroking her stomach. "I didn't say that stuff to hurt you," he said softly.

She craned her neck, looked up at him. "I know."

Then his mouth descended, his lips finding hers. He kissed her softly, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. He pulled back, inhaled loudly. "Damn," he whispered, then went back to kissing her.

Her body heated against his, his tongue like torture, dancing with her. She shifted so she was sitting across his lap, making it easier for both of them, and she kissed him back, gave him a piece of her heart that not so long ago was broken. His hand landed on her leg, creeping higher, bringing her dress up with it. And without thinking, she spread her legs just enough so he could slide his hand to where she wanted him. He stopped an inch away, reared back, his eyes hooded, filled with lust. "I should take you home," he said.

She choked on a gasp, trap his hand between her legs. "Why? Am I doing it wrong?"

"No." He chuckled and shook his head. "It has just been a long time since I have made out with a girl for this long without…you know, going further…and I need to take you home so I can go home and take care of it."

Elena grasped his shirt, pulled him back down to her mouth. Kissed him. Long and hard. "Or we could go somewhere and have me take care of it for you."

He swallowed. Loud. "Yeah," he breathed out. "We could do that, too."

She jumped off the truck, waited for him to do the same. They got in his car, drove to his house. He led her to his room, where she walked with her head high, looking at the world, and she decided then and there, to start living.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews:) I can't describe how happy and excited I'm at the moment...There is nothing better to know that my readers appreciate my effort.  
**

 **Some of you guys/gals may not be happy with Elena's decision. But at some point, you have to realise that some people can stay in your heart but not in your life...her relationship with Damon has probably reached this stage at the moment...It is kind of sad but it is what happens in real life:(**

 **Enjoy!**


	17. Chapter 17

Dating Matt was exactly like he said it would be—it was basically what they did pre-dating, only now he had seen the inside of Elena's house and her bedroom.

For the past two weeks, they had spent every spare second together when he was in town. Fridays she watched him coached the track team's practice, they went out for dinner, and then back to his house. Mondays came along, she watched him did the same thing, then they had dinner, and he dropped her off at home, kissed her goodbye, and they didn't see each other until the following Friday. They spoke, though, every day, sometimes on the phone, sometimes through video chat.

Matt studied. A lot. He told her his parents agreed to his athletic scholarship on the basis that he kept up a 3.8 GPA and got a degree in business and marketing so he could one day join his father and later took over the family business. What that business actually was, was a little sketchy to Elena—something about investments and finance and nest eggs and loopholes.

Now, Elena was standing just outside the tunnel at school, watching them do cool downs. Matt waved over at her, and she waved back. Damon turned, saw her standing there. Then he stood, started to leave. Matt stood, too, yelled something she couldn't make out. Damon shoved him. She gasped, stood taller. "What's your problem?" Matt yelled.

"You are my problem," Damon shouted, shoving him harder.

Mason got between them but he was facing Damon, words filtering from his mouth faster than she could make out. Then he left. Mason, not Damon. Damon was too busy having a stand-off with Matt.

Mason shook his head as he walked towards Elena. "You need to do something about your boy."

"Who?" She looked from him to Damon to Matt. "Matt?"

Without so much as slowing, he said, "Damon! He has lost his mind!"

Matt came next, his eyes narrowed, anger flaring on his lips. He sighed when he got to her, hands on hips.

"What the hell just happened?" she asked.

"It is fine, baby." He kissed her forehead. "I will be out soon, okay?"

Elena nodded, watched him went down the tunnel and when she turned back, Damon was walking towards her. "What the hell was that?" she asked him, blocking his path so he had no choice but to talk to her.

Damon tried to step around her but she shifted, her hands going to his chest to stop him. His shoulders tense, his lips pressed tight. "What, Elena?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the tunnel. "Your boyfriend gets a little of his treatment back and now you want to talk to me?"

She dropped her gaze. "What is going on with you, Damon?" she asked, her tone soft.

Damon shoved her hands off him. "Leave it alone, Elena."

"Damon!" She looked him in the eyes, hoping he would see her concern.

"You want to know what is happening? Fine!" He stepped closer, towered over her, his eyes right on her—eyes filled with rage. "Your boyfriend won't get off my back. He just keeps pushing and pushing until I have got no room to move!" He sucked in a breath. "Stefan's grades were suffering, because he couldn't concentrate in class. The school is worried that he is depressed because he has too high expectation on himself! And last night…" He laughed, but not out of humour. "I found out that dad has diabetes and his kidneys aren't good. But he has been keeping it as a secret. And Newton…" His voice broke, his pain slicing through his words. "And Newton is sick. The vet said his heart is failing! He is going to die!"

"Damon!" She wrapped arms around him, tears in her eyes, because abandoning Damon served a purpose, but abandoning the others…

His hand settled on the back of her head, the other grasping the fabric of her top. His chest rose and fell against hers. He wiped his eyes on her shoulder, his pain causing her own. He whispered, his mouth to her ear, "And I miss my best friend, Elena. So much."

x x x

"Where's your head at, Elena?" Matt asked, watching Elena from his desk while she studied on his bed.

She looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"You have been on that same page for the past ten minutes."

"I have?"

"What's going on?"

She blew out a heavy breath. "Have you been giving Damon a hard time at practice?"

He rolled his eyes. "This is about him?"

"Damon is a family friend."

"I know," he said, getting up and sitting on the bed with her. "I do give him a hard time," he admitted.

"Why, Matt?"

He didn't skip a beat. "Because he is good. Better than good. He is the best one out there. He may even be better than me, and he has been slacking lately—"

"He has got a lot going on," she cut in.

He sighed, looked at her like she was stupid. "And that may be fine off the track but if he wants that University of Virginia scholarship he has to do better. I'm not doing it to be an asshole because he was one to you. He races well when he is under pressure, when he feels like he is competing against an enemy. I'm doing it for him, Elena. No other reason."

"Okay," She conceded. "I'm sorry. It is just really not like him to explode like he did today. He has always been so calm and—"

"I really don't care," he cut in.

She reared back. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. I just don't care about Damon off the track, especially after what he did to you. And I'm not going to sit here and pretend like I do. I get you guys were friends, but he means nothing to me."

"Wow. That's a little harsh."

He shrugged. "Maybe it is a little too much honesty when you are used to lies."

She started to pack her books. "I'm going home."

"No." Matt stopped her, his hand around her wrist. "I'm sorry, okay?" He leaned in, kissed her once. "I'm just stressing and I'm taking it out on you."

"Is everything okay?"

"Not really." He shifted his gaze away from her and over to the desk where he had been doing his own studying. "My classes are killing me, and doing this whole coaching thing and training is getting under my skin." He faced her again, a sad smile pulling on his lips. "You are my saving grace, Elena. I live for this time with you. Stay. Please?"

She nodded, opened her books again.

"No," he said. "Stay the night with me?"

Elena swallowed, nervous, because even though they had sex, they had never slept together. There was a knock on his door, saving her from answering. A man poked his head in, a man he had only seen in the pictures hanging on the walls. He seemed taller in person, or maybe it was just his presence. "I'm sorry," he said, looking between them. "I didn't know Matt had company."

She stood, fixed her clothes, made sure he knew nothing inappropriate was going on in Matt's room. Then she walked towards him, her nerves on end, her hand out to shake. "Hi, Mr Donovan. I'm Elena Gilbert. It is such a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Behind her, Matt chuckled.

His father shook her hand. "Pete Donovan," he said. "It is good to meet you, too, Miss Gilbert." His smile was tight as his gaze shifted to Matt. "Gilbert," he murmured. "She is not John Gilbert's kid is she?"

She nodded while Matt said, "Yeah, Dad. She is."

"Right." Pete dropped her hand and kept his focus on Matt. "Your mum and I are heading out to some charity dinner I knew nothing about until an hour ago. We will be home late."

"Sure, Dad," Matt replied.

Pete looked at Elena. "Goodbye, Miss Gilbert."

Once Pete was gone, Matt cackled. "It is such a pleasure to meet you, sir," he mocked.

She walked to his bed, picked up a pillow and threw it at his face. "Shut up."

He attempted to contain his laughter as he tugged on her tee, pulling her down until she was lying on top of him. He shook his head, eyes on her and smiled at her. "You are so cute, all nervous and stuff."

"You said your parents were out of town."

He shrugged. "They were. I guess they are home now."

"I wish I had met them properly."

"What was wrong with that meeting?" he asked.

"I panicked."

With a laugh, he said, "A little."

"Did you know he knew my dad? And how does he know my dad?"

Matt shrugged again. "My dad invests in a lot of property. They may have worked together in the past. Who knows?" He moved his hand to her back, under her top, moving higher until his fingers found the clasp of her bra.

"Really?" she asked. "Now?"

He kissed her cheek, moved across her jaw towards her ear, his tongue like fire against her skin. He bared his teeth and tugged on her earlobe. "Right now."

Elena wanted nothing more than to get lost with him, but he was right. Her mind was elsewhere. She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. "I will stay with you tonight but tomorrow, I need to do something."

* * *

 **Well, I have to say I was kind of surprised my previous chapter had caused such a strong emotional effect on my readers and some even said they won't read this story anymore:( I'm kind of sad about it...I like this story because it is based on a real life story of a good friend - of course I have added some extra stuff to make it more dramatic...  
**

 **Trust me, I love Delena and I like happy endings for Delena. You guys/gals just have to be patient...**

 **Once again, thank you to my readers who are still continuing reading this story. Hugs and kisses to all of you:)**


	18. Chapter 18

"Elena is here!"

Damon startled awake. Rubbed his eyes. Metaphorically opened his ears to see if he had been dreaming.

"Elena is here!"

Nope.

Not a dream.

He threw the covers off him and got out of bed. He skipped his run this morning; his motivation lost somewhere amidst the chaos of his life. He went to the bathroom, poured half a tube of toothpaste in his mouth, then proceeded to cough and splutter as he attempted to swallow it while he slipped on some clothes and shoes. He opened the apartment door just as Elena stepped out of a black truck he had never seen before. "Hey there, Newton." She gave Newton a greeting rub behind the ears.

Damon was a lot calmer when he descended from the apartment stairs and walked over to her.

"Hey, Damon," she said.

He pointed to the truck. "Did you get a car?"

She shook her head, her smile as warm as the morning sun. "It is Matt's gardener's."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Damon rocked back on his heels. "Of course he has a gardener."

"That's exactly what I said," she laughed out, and that sound alone chipped away at the cold, hard ice surrounding his heart.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I called your dad," she said, grimacing as if she was unsure she should be here. She was always welcome here. This was her home, too. "I was hoping to get some time in with you guys and Newton."

"We would like that."

She shuffles her feet, her hands clasped in front of her. "I feel like I have to tell you something," she said.

"Okay…?"

"I didn't know there are so many things going on in your family at the moment. I'm sorry. I should have been there for you guys."

"You don't need to apologize." He was so tempted to touch her. "I'm sorry for dumping all that stuff on you yesterday. It was just—"

Stefan stepped out of the house then, the screen door slamming shut behind him, putting an end to Damon's apology.

Elena and Stefan walked side by side, away from the house, away from Damon. They speak in hushed tones, sharing secrets and sorrow. And it dawns on Damon now why Stefan had been so upfront about his feelings towards him, about how badly he treated her. Because Stefan knew her. One-on-one. And he loved her, maybe even as much as Damon did.

They returned an hour later and it was Giuseppe's turn.

Damon sat in the living room of the main house and pretended to watch TV. Newton lumbered to his feet and crossed the room to rest his head on Damon's knee. He watched Damon with his eyes. He put his hand on the dog. They communed together in silence as they often did since what had happened between him and Elena.

But that was not why he was here. He was just waiting for the second hand to tick over until it was his turn with Elena. He wanted that time with her, one-on-one, so he could do something he had wanted to do for what felt like forever.

Talk.

He just wanted to talk to her, to go back to the way things were, and if all she wanted to talk about was Matt, he would sit and listen and he would do his best not to show her that it was killing him to have to do that.

Another hour passed and Giuseppe returned with a smile on his face.

"Can I take Newton out for a walk?" she asked Damon. "I know he is sick but can he still go out?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Another hour passed.

Well, an hour and six minutes to be exact, and Damon had no idea what was happening on the television.

Then his phone rang. "I'm so sorry to call. I brought Newton home and now I couldn't get him inside the truck. He didn't want to leave the house either."

"Do you want me to pick him up?"

"I don't mind having him here overnight. But are you okay with it?"

"I will be there soon."

He knocked on her front door because he didn't know if he was welcome to use her bedroom door anymore—if it was now reserved for the one and only Matt Donovan.

Elena seemed surprised that it was Damon when she answered the door. "Why are you knocking here?"

He shrugged, feeling stupid. "How's Newton doing?"

"He is dozing in my room. I just couldn't get him inside the truck."

Damon cringed. "Sorry."

"It is fine."

He made his way down to her room while she followed behind. He took off his jacket, threw it on her couch. Habit.

The lights in her bedroom were on. Newton was stretched out on her bed. He got to his feet to greet Damon.

"You aren't supposed to disturb Elena," he said to Newton.

Newton looked at him briefly as if to say, I do what I like.

Using his sternest voice, Damon said, "Time to go."

Newton paid no attention and sat down on the bed again.

"Newton. Car." Damon pointed towards the door.

Newton whined.

"He can stay here tonight," Elena said, taking her phone from the nightstand. "I will be back."

Damon looked at Newton. "Okay. You can stay but behave yourself. No peeing on Elena's bed."

Newton looked at him again as if to say, Give me a break. I know how to behave myself.

Damon sat on the edge of the bed and listened to Elena who was outside her room on the phone, probably talking to Matt. For the first time ever, he felt out of place. Being here didn't feel like it used to. He didn't know if he should leave or if he should stay to let her know he was going to leave. He exhaled loudly, try to calm his nerves. He stood up and started to pace, back and forth, round and round. Meanwhile, Elena was outside the room, laughing at whatever Matt was saying to her. He froze when he got to her desk, a desk full of memories he had to try to forget somehow. There was a familiar picture of them on there. Once upon a time it was in a frame and sat in the centre of her bookshelf like a proud possession. The picture was taken by Lillian the day they first met, he was in his dirty Superman shirt, her in her slogan tee. Her hair was shorter then. Their arms were around each other as if they had been friends for years, or maybe they just knew that they would be friends for years to come.

He moved papers out of the way so he could pick it up, but his fingers grazed on a piece of cloth—one that she used for her cross-stitches. He picked it up, and his eyes widened, his breath caught, his knees weaken. It was a replica of the picture of them, but it was incomplete, certain parts of them were missing. Her smile was there, though, and his chest ached when he skimmed his thumb over it. And even though he could hear her footsteps making her way towards the room, he didn't put it down. He didn't move. He couldn't.

She was next to him now. Coconuts, lime, and Elena.

"I was working on it to give to you for your birthday but…" She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to.

"I should go," he whispered.

"Wait," she said, and he swallowed his pride and faced her. "Can we talk, maybe?"

Damon nodded, although he was terrified of what she had to say.

She pointed to the couch in her room—his old bed when he was strong enough to stay out of hers.

They sat

"So…" he said.

"So…" she said back.

"Um…" He took a deep breath. "How are you and Matt?"

"Fine," she said quickly. "But I don't want to talk about him."

 _Good. Neither do I._

"I wanted to apologize to you."

"Me?" he asked. "For what?"

Elena looked away. First at one wall. Then another. Then she clenched and unclenched her fists, a sign of nerves. Her hands always needed to be doing something, that was why she found knitting so therapeutic.

Damon sighed. "You don't owe me anything, Elena."

"I do," she said, her voice quiet. She inhaled loudly, exhaled the same way. "I have always put you on a pedestal, Damon. I always thought you were a god amongst men, and I think, deep down, I expected you to act that way. And that wasn't fair to you. At all." Her lips trembled, and he inched closer, wanting to save her from her own thoughts. She sniffed once, tried to keep it together. "I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you, and as we got older I started seeing you differently and I don't know, I guess I just had this picture in mind of what it would be like to be with you in that way." She wiped at her eyes before her tears could be released, but he didn't need to see them to know they existed, he could hear it in the shakiness of her voice, feel it in the breaking of his heart. He hated seeing her sad. He hated it even more when he caused it.

He let her speak, not interrupting, because he knew it was important to her that she said what she needed to say and have him hear it. "In my mind, and in here,"—she covered her heart with her hand— "it has always been you, Damon."

 _It has always been you, too, Elena._

"And in the end, I got what I wanted. And my expectations of you have nothing to do with who you are as a person or as a friend. That's all on me."

"Elena." Damon shook his head, his vision blurred by his own tears, his own thoughts. _I hate that you feel this, Elena._

"And I'm sorry that I have been shutting you out the way I have, because it is not your fault." She looked over at Newton, dozing peacefully in what was once their bed. "I should have been there for Newton, too." She sniffed again, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Besides, it was just sex, right?"

Damon dropped his gaze, the ache in his chest intensified. Elena was never been an "it was just sex" kind of person. He was, and now he made her the same way. Either he or…"So you and Matt?" He hated asking the question as much as he hated seeing the answer in her eyes. He lifted the cross-stitch he was still holding onto. "Can I have this?" he asked.

She offered him a half-hearted smile. "But I'm not done with us," she said.

Damon looked into her eyes, memorized them. "Yeah, Elena. I think you are."

* * *

 **Was Elena really done with Damon? I know you guys/gals are going to be upset after reading this chapter...There are more than 200 reviews for this story so far and I'm actually kind of excited and glad. But I don't think I have expected such strong emotional reactions on this story:(  
**

 **These are 2 young adults (in a way still immature) who are trying to find out what love is and what relationship means. They will make mistake and they will head for trouble. This is what happens in real life. I'm sorry if I make you guys/gals upset or angry. But I really appreciate the support so far.**

 **Thank you and for those who are still enjoying this story - I'm giving you an extra chapter today:)**


	19. Chapter 19

The texts started at 5:30 this morning.

Single-letter messages.

The first was an H.

Then an A.

Followed by a P

P

Y

Elena was almost back to sleep when the next set came.

B

I

R

T

H

D

A

Y

All from Matt.

This year, her birthday landed on Wednesday, which was also Matt's busiest day on campus. He couldn't be with her physically, but he sure let her know he was here in spirit.

She sat in her first class, half asleep because of the thoughtful (and relentless) texts all morning. Mason walked towards her, a piece of paper in his hand. "From the Salvatore brother."

"Which one?"

"Have a guess."

She unfolded the note, smiled when she saw the stick-figure drawing of a girl holding balloons next to a cake the same size as the girl.

 _Dear Elena,_

 _Lunch._

 _Cafeteria._

 _Be there or be an idiot._

 _I like your face,_

 _Stefan_

There was a knock on the door and Mrs Tanner sighed, annoyed by the distraction, and opened the door. A man waited on the other side behind a giant bouquet of flowers. "Is there an Elena Gilbert in here?" he asked.

Elena sank lower in her seat, listening to the oohs and aahs coming from her classmates. Mrs Tanner pointed her out, and the delivery man brought the flowers to her. "Lucky girl," he told her.

She had never really been a flowers kind of girl, so she couldn't say what they were. They smelled good, though, and they were so big she had to stand to look for the card, even though she knew who they were from.

"Thank you, young man." Mrs Tanner said to the man.

"I'm not done," the man said. "Our customer wanted to make sure the other girls didn't feel left out." He then proceeded to hand a single red rose to all the girls in the class, including Mrs Tanner, while the class broke out in whispers, Matt's name on everyone's tongue. Elena's cheeks burnt with embarrassment, hating the attention.

"High school relationships aren't what they used to be," Mrs Tanner mumbled, trying to regain the attention of the class.

She found the card and read it.

 _Happy 18th Birthday to the most beautiful girl in the world._

 _I love you._

 _Matt._

"How are you even going to fit that in your locker?" Mason asked. "Matt didn't think this one out, huh?"

"Who cares?" a random girl Elena had never spoken to rebutted. "Matt Donovan has money and he is not afraid to spend it."

Rose scoffed. "Damon has money," she said, facing Elena and shooting daggers with her eyes. Elena slumped in her seat, avoiding Grace's glare.

"Yeah," Mason agreed. "Damon has money, but Matt has Fuck You money."

"Mason!" Mrs Tanner said through a gasp.

"What does that even mean?" the random girl asked.

Elena would smash her head against the desk, but the giant bunch of flowers was in her way.

Mason said, "It means the Donovans can say Fuck You to anyone, and their money makes it okay."

Elena waved at Stefan when he entered the cafeteria. He smiled and strode towards her. Then he dumped his bag on the table and slumped down in his seat. "I heard you got a delivery this morning."

"You heard that, huh?"

He chuckled. "The whole school heard." His gaze shifted around her. "So where is it?"

"Mrs Tanner offered to keep it in her office until the end of the day."

He nodded.

"So…" Elena started. "You wanted to see me?"

"I'm waiting on Sarah."

"We are here," Sarah said, walking up behind Elena. But she was not alone. She was dragging what seemed to be an unsure Damon with her. They moved to the other side of the table where Sarah forcefully made Damon in the middle. Sarah dumped her bag on the table, unzipped it, and then looked up at Elena. "Ready?" she asked, her grin wide.

Elena smiled back, unable to contain it. "What did you guys do?"

Sarah dramatically dropped the paper plate on the table. "Ta-da!" she shouted.

Elena's jaw dropped, her eyes moving from the plate to each of the others in front of her. "Are these Virginia's brownies?"

Three heads nodded in unison.

"You hunted down your old servant to bake my favourite brownies?"

Stefan shook his head. "No. She is working down in Hampton, so she emailed us the recipe."

Elena peeled the wrap covering the brownies. "You made these?" She looked at Damon, hoping he was the one who would answer. She had made peace with the situation between them, but it seemed like he was the one pulling away now, creating an ever-growing divide between them.

"Technically," Sarah said, laughing at Elena's reaction. "All of us tried to make them."

"We got it right on the fifth batch, but then Damon remembered you liked yours with walnuts, so we had to make those," Stefan said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Elena," he says seriously. "I could have died making these for you. Then what would you do? Because I know you want me, and you can't have me if I'm dead."

Elena pouted, met Damon's eyes across the table. "This is really nice."

"I'm glad you think so," Stefan said. "Dad was pissed when he saw the kitchen this morning."

Damon chuckled, broke their stare to glance at Stefan. "Was he?"

God, Elena missed his voice, his laugh, his smile. She missed being part of the Salvatore world.

"So mad," Stefan said.

Elena picked up a brownie and inspected it. "It is perfect." She brought it to her mouth, but Stefan stopped her.

"We have to sing Happy Birthday first!"

"Don't you dare!" she hissed.

They all laughed. "Why not?" Sarah asked.

"I'm trying to avoid any more attention."

She ate four brownies for lunch and now she felt sick.

In her defence, they were so good.

"I tried to cut you off at two," Stefan said, shaking his head as he watched her walk, her hand on her stomach, toward Mrs Tanner's office after school.

"You just here to gloat?" she asked.

"I thought I would give you a ride home so you didn't have to catch the bus with the botanical gardens in your arms."

"I appreciate it."

She knocked on Mrs Tanner's door and she opened it, flowers in her hand. "Tell your boyfriend I said thank you for the rose."

"Sure thing," Elena told her, taking them from her.

She shuffled through school, cheeks red, past everyone pointing and whispering. Stefan had to open doors and walk with his hand on her back to lead her around because she couldn't see over or through or around her present. They finally made it outside, and she felt like she could breathe again. Then he said, "Um. Elena?"

"Yeah?"

He took the flowers from her and pointed to the parking lot. Specifically, Matt and John were in the parking lot standing next to a blue car with a giant red bow.

Her stomach twisted. "Oh no…"

"Happy birthday, baby!" Matt shouted.

"You got me a car for my birthday?" she asked, moving towards him, a million different emotions rushing through her.

"Not just me," he said, hands up in surrender. He could read her expression: shock mixed with embarrassment mixed with a whole lot of what the hell?

"Matt came to me with the idea, and we worked out a budget that suited both of us," John said. "Matt found the car online, and I got it checked out." His eyebrows pinched, concern deep in his eyes. "Do you not like it, sweetheart? Is it the colour or—"

"No," Elena cut in, hugging her father close. "It is perfect." But John couldn't afford to buy her a car, or half of one, or whatever, and Matt had an endless stream of Fuck You money. She leaned up on her toes and whispered in John's ear, "Dad, you can't afford—"

John released her, his eyes on hers. "It is fine, sweetheart." He glanced at Matt, then back to her. "It is a wonderful thing Matt thought to do."

She turned to Matt. "Thank you." Then she hugged him, too. "This is too much."

Matt grinned. "You deserve it, Elena."

"Hey, John," Stefan said, standing behind her. "You got Elena a car?"

John smiled at him, pride in his eyes she hadn't seen in a long time. Ever since she got her license, her father had dreamed about buying her a car but he had never been able to swing it, and with everything that went on with her mother and the college money, he had given up hope. But now Matt was here, and he had given John the chance to do something he had wanted for so long.

Stefan set her flowers on the roof of her new car while John told him all about it. She stepped closer to Matt and put her arms around his waist. "I can't believe you did this. And what are you even doing here? You are supposed to be in class."

Matt shrugged and kissed her once. Then his lips curled, his gaze lingering on hers. "To be fair, it was a selfish gift. Next semester, I will be back on the track team and I won't be able to come home as often. I was hoping maybe you would come see me on campus?"

"I would love that," she told him honestly.

"So do you like it?"

Elena looked at the car, the hood now lifted while John showed it off to Stefan and Damon. "I love it so much," she told Matt. Not necessarily the car, or the fact that it was her She loved what it meant for her father.

"I'm taking you, your dad, and Jules out to dinner tonight," Matt said. "And this time, we are doing fancy."

"Holy shit," Sarah said, now standing next to Damon. "Is this yours, Elena?"

Elena faced her. "All mine."

She laughed. "So much for avoiding attention."

x x x

Matt took them to the same fancy restaurant Damon took her to for her seveenteen birthday.

He ordered the lobster.

They talked about her new car, about Matt at university, about the track team.

"What about you, Elena?" Jules asked.

"Me?" she asked, a mouthful of steak.

"Are you planning on going to college?"

She glanced at John, realizing he hadn't told Jules.

"We had a little hiccup," John said, his gaze lowered in shame. But he was not the one who should be ashamed, and Elena hated that he felt that way.

So Elena cleared her throat, stabbed at my steak as if it were her mother. "I wanted to go to University of Virginia, too, but my mother stole my college fund."

Jules choked halfway through sipping her wine while Matt's eyes snapped to Elena's. She was still stabbing away, pissed that her mother still had the power to make her father felt like shit. "She just stole it?" Matt asked.

"It is fine," John said.

"No, it is not," Elena hissed.

"Not here, Elena."

Awkward silence passed while she tried to regroup.

"You know," Matt said, "both my parents are University of Virginia alumni."

If he offered to pay for college—

He added, "My mum's good friends with the dean of admission there, and I'm sure she would be happy to meet you, direct you toward some scholarships."

Elena said, "I don't have the grades for a scholarship."

"Maybe not, but there are a ton of them out there and not all of them are academic based. There are some for single-income families," Matt said, pointing to John. "There are some ridiculous ones, too, like if your birthday falls on a certain date. They are not much. I mean, a single scholarship won't get you all the way through four years, but if you get enough of the smaller ones, it might help."

"Elena is senior and it is halfway through the first semester now," John told him, "Isn't it too late?"

Matt shrugged. "It can't hurt to ask, right?"

Elena skipped dessert, a surprise to everyone at the table. But seriously, those four brownies were still playing havoc on her stomach.

"I have one more gift," John said, reaching into his breast pocket. He pulled out a square velvet box and Elena gasped, covered her mouth.

"Dad, you have already given me so much. I can't take that."

"It is not from me," he said, sliding it across the table. He reached into another pocket, revealed an envelope. "Giuseppe wanted me to give it to you."

Matt went rigid beside her. "Giuseppe Salvatore?"

John nodded at him and looked at Elena. "Elena?" he said, and she tore her gaze away from the box and up at him. "It is from Lillian, sweetheart. She left it in her will for when you turned eighteen."

Her hands shook as she picked up the box and lifted the lid. It was a gold necklace, a simple key charm attached to it. On the inside of the lid, there was a note in Lillian's handwriting:

 _Dear Elena,_

 _It will make more sense when you read my letter._

Elena choked on a sob and picked up the envelope. "Excuse me," she whispered, standing up and taking the box and the letter with her. "I need to uh—"

"It is okay," John cut in. "Go."

She ran to the bathroom, closed the lid on a toilet seat, and sat, her knees bouncing, her hands shaking. She tried to contain her sobs, but it was hard. So hard.

When she finally worked up the courage, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

 _Dear Elena_

 _Happy birthday, sweetheart. It saddens me that I won't be there to see you grow up, to see the kind of woman you have turned into. As silly as it sounds, I hope you haven't forgotten about me. I hope that deep down, I'm still in your heart because you will always be in mine. I didn't know you very long, but I feel like I knew you well. You brought so much laughter and joy to my family, and I'm forever grateful for that summer you spent with us._

 _I wanted to give you something that my mother gave to me when I turned eighteen._

 _It is a key to your world, Elena, and I want to tell you the same things my mother told me when I was your age, just in case yours isn't around to pass on a similar message._

 _Love hard, love fierce, but love right._

 _Be careful with your heart, guard it, and if you feel the need to be reckless, make sure you are the one making that choice._

 _See the world, the good, the bad, the ugly._

 _Learn. Never stop learning, Elena._

 _And lastly, take your time, but don't waste it. Trust me on that one._

 _You now hold the key to your world. You choose which doors to lock, which to open. You choose who to let in and who to keep out. But do me a favour? Don't shut out too many people. You are too good, too precious to be kept hidden._

 _In case I don't get a chance to tell you before I pass away, I want you to know now that I love you, sweet girl. And I hope that you and Damon are still in touch, still friends—maybe more?_

 _If not, I hope one day you find it in your heart to forgive him his mistakes. He is learning, Elena. Always learning._

 _Lillian._

* * *

 **What do you guys/gals think? Are you crying after reading Lillian's letter? I hope you will enjoy this chapter.  
**

 **Once again, thank you for the support. I sincerely hope my readers will continue to read this story and I promise I will try my very best to write a good Delena story for all of you:)**


	20. Chapter 20

As soon as Damon's phone rang, he knew it was Elena. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to feel about it.

"I don't really know why I called," Elena said, her voice weak.

He frowned, looking down at the bottle of beer in his hand. "Where are you right now?"

The silence stretched the space between them. She sniffed and then exhaled. "Remember that restaurant you took me to for my seventeen birthday?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in the bathroom, sitting on a closed toilet seat, crying."

Leaning forward, he placed the beer on the coffee table. Then he moved back on the couch, tilted his head up and stared up at the ceiling. And even though he knew the answer, still, he asked, "Why are you crying?"

"Did you know?" she whispered.

Damon closed his eyes, let the effects of the alcohol kicked in. "Dad told me a few days ago." He heard her breaths through the phone, short and sharp, piercing his chest with each intake. "Do you like it?"

"It is so beautiful, Damon," she whispered.

He swallowed, thick, his own emotions threatening to escape. They had never spent a birthday apart. Until now. Maybe that was why he was sitting in his dark apartment, drinking alone. "Then it is fitting you have it."

"There was a letter, too."

"I know."

"Did you read it?"

The sadness in her voice turned his insides to dust. "No. I didn't read it."

Elena sniffed again, and he imagined her in a beautiful dress, sitting in the bathroom, her hair braided to the side, her eyes filled with tears—tears she didn't want to release, so she looked up at the ceiling, just like he was, in the hopes that gravity was on her side.

She said, her voice hoarse, "Sometimes I imagine hearing the knock on my bedroom door late at night as if you are on the other side waiting for me to answer. And I know it is not real and that you are not there, but I had gotten so used to it and…" Her breaths were shaky, her voice even shakier. "What happened to us, Damon? You were my best friend."

Damon sat up. "I still want to be that, Elena."

"You don't act like it."

"Losing you…" He couldn't even begin to describe what he felt. He tugged at his hair, hoping the physical pain would outweigh the emotional one. "I would give anything to be that again."

He heard her shifted, heard her breaths even. "I have to go. Matt is waiting."

Then she hung up, and he looked over at the empty beers scattered on his coffee table. He didn't count the bottles, the calories, the number of miles it would take to burn off. Because numbers stopped having meaning when there was no end in sight.

He didn't know how long he sat on the couch, the sole invitee to his own pity party. Someone knocked on his door and he tried to make out the time on the microwave, but it was too far away. The knock sounded again, and this time, he forced himself to stand. He didn't bother putting on a t-shirt as he shuffled his feet to the door.

Seeing Elena on the other side had Damon instantly tensing. He stopped drinking after she hung up—when he realized that alcohol didn't help take away the pain and frustration of not being the one to celebrate with her. "Hey," he said, standing straighter.

She was exactly how he pictured her to be: a simple black dress that hugged every inch, every curve, her hair in a side braid, loose strands falling around her beautiful face. She watched him from the corner of her eye before pushing on the door wider and searching his apartment. "You have been drinking?" she asked.

"A little. I'm not drunk, though."

"Oh."

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at a fancy dinner with your fancy boyfriend and your fancy new car?" If she could hear the pain in his words, she didn't show it.

With a shrug, she said, "We have spent every birthday together since we were twelve and…" She reached into her pocket, pulled out the velvet box Giuseppe had offered to show him. He declined. He didn't want to know.

"Do you think you could…" She held the box closer to him and blinked, her huge brown eyes right on his. "It just…it would feel wrong if anyone else did it."

Damon wanted to say no, to tell her that she shouldn't be here and close the door on her and somehow try to forget everything they were. But instead, he opened the door wider so she could step inside, and switched on the light so he could see what he was doing. She turned, faced the now-closed door. He stood only inches behind her while she collected her hair, lifted it so he had access to her neck and he stopped breathing, memories of her skin on his lips flooding him.

 _What are you doing here, Elena?_

He tried to hide the shakiness of his fingers when he clasped the gold chain around her neck. "All done," he said, but it was barely audible, and so he cleared his throat. Repeated the words. She released her hair but didn't turn to him. Instead, she looked down at the necklace, the charm now clasped in her hand.

He counted.

Five seconds.

Six heartbeats.

 _When is it going to end, Elena?_

"Do you remember the day we went to the movies?" she asked, her voice as weak as it was on the phone.

It was a random question, but he ran with it, pretended like her being here wasn't destroying him. "You mean that time when Stefan and Sarah practically begged me to take them to the movies?"

Elena turned slowly, looked up at him, her eyebrows drawn.

He forced a smile, went back to the day he had tried to forget. "I got changed four times before we left to pick you up."

She looked so confused. So sweet. So Elena. "But you said it wasn't a date…"

"Well yeah…" He rubbed the back of his neck, looked away to hide his embarrassment. "I didn't want our first date to be with my brother and cousin sister, so I asked Stefan and Sarah to come along." He shook his head, chuckled under his breath. "I was so dumb. I kept telling you it wasn't a date until you understood, and when we picked you up…" He pushed back the pain of that day and forced himself to continue. "You had on a purple dress and boots, and you wore your hair as it is now." He stepped closer, reached up and tugged on her braid. "God, Elena, you looked so beautiful. You literally stole my breath. But I knew it wasn't for me because you knew it wasn't a date, so I figured you were trying to impress the boys at the movie theatre."

Her hands met his bare chest, and he looked up at her, startled. "Damon…"

"What?"

She shook her head, her eyes wild. "That wasn't for any boys!"

"But you knew it wasn't date!" He whispered back, just as confused as she was. "Right?"

"Says the guy who changed outfits four times!"

He shrugged, unable to hold back his smile. It was like having Old Elena back. I like Old Elena. "It's not like it matters," he said, one hand on the door behind her, the other grasping her wrist. Her hands were still on his bare chest, warm and soothing. "You ignored me the entire time."

"I did not!" she said, her nose in the air.

"You totally did!" Somehow, he managed to laugh. "You didn't even sit next to me in the car and you wouldn't let me buy your ticket or your food, and then you disappeared for what felt like forever before the movie even started."

"I was upset," she whispered, her gaze lowered. She tried to remove her hands, but he kept one there, wanting her to touch him, to tease him, even if she had no idea she was doing it.

He wondered if she could feel his heart beating wildly beneath her fingers. "Why were you upset?"

"Because…because…" she stammered.

Damon took a risk, moved closer until the heat of her body radiated against his. "Because why?"

Elena shook her head again, working through her confusion. "But you got that girl's number…"

"Elena." He pressed into her now, trapping her between him and the door. In the back of his mind, he knew it was wrong. He couldn't have her; she didn't belong to him. But damn, he wanted her. He waited for her to look at him before saying, "I asked you. I looked you right in the eyes and asked if you would mind and I wanted so badly for you to say yes. For you to tell me that you didn't want me with another girl because you wanted me for yourself." He looked down at their bodies pressed together, and his voice dropped to a whisper, "Do you know how disappointed I was when you told me you didn't care?"

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "But…"

He leaned in, his mouth an inch from her shoulder. "But what?"

"You said you would call her."

He released her wrist and as soon as she dropped her hand, he linked his fingers with hers, wanting to touch her, to hold her hand, to make her see things from his perspective. "I never called her." He pulled back, watched her eyes—saw the confusion turn to clarity.

"I remember that day so differently," she mumbled.

He took a chance he should have taken back then, wet his lips, and kissed her neck. "I meant what I said, Elena. I have loved you forever."

"Don't do that," she whispered. "We can't make the same mistakes again." Then she pushed him away. "I have to go. Matt is waiting."

Damon bit back his disappointment, his frustration, his anger. "Then why are you here, Elena?"

Elena didn't respond, she simply turned and walked out his door.

 _Why were you here, Elena?_

He found himself smiling.

 _Because she has loved you forever, too, idiot._

The next day, he waited for her in the parking lot with a Snickers bar. "Friends," he said.

"Friends?" she asked.

He shrugged. "For now."

* * *

 **As promised, this whole chapter is Delena. Communication is very important. If you don't speak up, nobody will know what you are thinking. Just look at these 2 characters that we love - they thought they knew each other well but did they?**

 **Just to clarify for some of my readers - Stefan is a year younger than Damon and Elena. Sarah is 2 years younger than Elena.**

 **Hope my readers will enjoy this chapter.**

 **Thank you for the support so far:)**


	21. Chapter 21

Loving Elena from a distance was hard, but not as hard as hoping to one day loathing her. That was impossible.

Between Tuesday to Thursday, Damon treated her as his. It was as destructive as it was healing, but he didn't know any other way to deal with the feelings he had for her.

He waited for her in the parking lot in the mornings, walked her from her locker to her car in the afternoons. He ate lunch with her, showed up late to her work when no one was around just to get that extra time in. They didn't discuss what happened with them. They definitely didn't discuss Matt. They danced around in circles, over and over, around and around.

Elena played the game as well as he did. When Matt was around, Damon smiled, nodded, did everything Matt said, and he pretend like he was not in love with his girlfriend. She waited by the tunnel for Matt after practice, every practice, and Damon smiled and nodded at her, too. But that was all Damon could do because upsetting her relationship with Matt meant upsetting her, and that was the last thing he had wanted. And so he creepily lurked in the shadows of her life (not literally) and waited for his turn. She didn't realize any of this, of course, because she was so naive, so innocent, so Elena.

Matt headed for the locker room a minute before Damon did. "Hey, Damon!" Elena smiled brightly at him from her usual spot.

"Hey." Damon glanced towards the locker room, let her know he was aware of her situation. Sly. Then he lowered his voice, trying to keep their secrets hidden. "You are still coming to Zach's wedding tomorrow, right?"

Okay, he didn't know if her possibly spending the day with him was a secret, but he pretended like it was. It was more fun that way.

Zach and his first wife Lucy divorced when Sarah turned twelve. Lucy then moved to Miami and got married a few years later. A year ago, Zach met Krystal and they fell in love. _Love at first sight_ , that was what Zach told Giuseppe. Sarah was happy that her father had managed to find his happiness again.

Elena nodded. Her volume matching his when she said, "I can't believe they are getting married so soon."

"It is Uncle Zach and Krystal. There is no point waiting with them."

 _But I will wait, Elena. I will wait forever for you._

The Salvatore family had had a lot of functions on their property before. Birthday parties, company picnics, but never a wedding. A section of their land was scattered in white…white chairs, white tents, white fairy lights. It was beautiful. And Krystal looked stunning in her ivory wedding dress as she walked down the aisle towards her forever.

Damon didn't think there was a dry eye in the house when they said their vows. Romance and love and promises of eternity could do that to people. Even his father.

Elena wiped at her tears the entire time, and Damon expected nothing less. She had been around, watched from a distance as Zach and Krystal made falling love looked easy. It wasn't as easy as she thought, but Damon let her believed in the fantasy.

At the reception, she sat with John and Jules. Matt wasn't invited. Damon was kind of glad about it. He knew Sarah was the one who requested it because she knew how he felt about Elena.

He tapped Elena's shoulder. "Come on. Stefan is about to break out his dance moves. Trust me, you don't want to miss it."

She took his offered hand, walked with him to the dance floor.

He threw his arm around her shoulders, dipped his head, spoke close to her ear so she could hear him over the music. "You are having fun?"

She tilted her head back, smiled up at him. "I am." Then she motioned over to where Zach and Krystal were sitting with their friends. "It was such an amazing ceremony, and Krystal looks so beautiful."

"She is the second most beautiful girl here," he told her. And it was the truth. When he saw Elena got out of her car, her stomach did a twisty thing. It shouldn't be fair that one person could hold that much enchantment, that much grace. It took Stefan shoving him and practically forcing him to trip over a pile of chairs for him to tear his gaze away from her. "You can look, but don't touch," Stefan warned.

He was just looking.

Elena cooed, fanning herself dramatically. "And Zach…"

He tense.

She smirked. "He is so dreamy," she chuckled. "I didn't realise your uncle can be so charming."

"Shut up." he shoved her away jokingly. "He is married, okay?"

Then her phone rang and her smile faltered. Her hands went to her purse to fish out her phone.

"I have to go. Matt is waiting," she said.

He frowned and his lips pressed tight. "Really? You can't even stay for my speech?"

She looked as disappointed as he felt. "I wasn't sure how long the ceremony would go for, and I told him I would be there an hour ago."

Damon sighed. "All right, Cinderella. Let me walk you to your carriage."

"Are you cold?" he asked her, walking under the twilight sky towards the temporary parking lot.

Elena rubbed her hands on her arms. "A little."

He shrugged out of his jacket and gently placed it on her shoulders. "You really do look beautiful tonight, Elena."

"Stop it," she murmured, backhanding his stomach. It was like having Old Elena back.

He faked hurt, but she didn't. She grasped her hand, her eyes widened. "Have you been hitting the gym?" she asked.

"I have," he said. "Under your boyfriend's advice, actually. He suggested I need more power in my start, so…"

With a smile, she said, "I'm glad you guys are getting along so well."

"You know what they say, right? Keep your friends close, your enemies closer…"

"Damon," she warned.

He nudged her side. "I'm kidding." For forty-six long seconds, they walked in silence. Then he said, "Not that it matters, but I just wanted you to know that I won't be around for a few days."

"Really? Why?"

"I'm going to hit up Vegas with Zach and his family—kind of like their honeymoon."

She stopped walking. "Vegas?"

"Yeah."

"Does your dad know?"

"No," he said through a chuckle. "He thinks I'm visiting Jason in Jersey."

She chewed on her lip, and looked down at her feet. "Vegas, huh? It is like stripper capital, right?"

He laughed. "I don't know. I'm not really going for the strippers."

She looked back up at him, her brow knitted. "Then why are you going?"

"I just need to get away for a while, clear my head."

"Is something going on? Are you okay?"

 _No, I'm not okay. I'm in love with you, Elena. And you are in love with someone else_. "I'm all good. Don't worry about me."

She started walking again, slower than before. "So are you nervous about your speech?"

"Not really."

"Have you got it planned out?"

He chuckled when she patted down his jacket, searching for the written speech. "I don't have it written out if that is what you are looking for."

She stopped searching and pouted up at him. "I'm sad I'm going to miss it. What are you going to say?"

"I don't know." They got to her boyfriend-bought car, and he leaned against it. "It will be easy, though, I will just speak from my heart."

She copied his position, their sides touching. "You should practice on me," she said. "What better person is there to trust to tell you if it sucks than your best friend."

Damon hid his smile and looked down at the ground. Then he cleared his throat, shoved his hands in his pockets to keep him from touching her. "I guess I'm just going to talk about a boy—a kid, really—who fell in love with a girl at an age and a time when love felt bigger than the world around them. How he was her strength when she needed it, her voice when she didn't have one. I will say something about the way he looks at her as if there is no one and nothing else out there that could possibly hold his attention as much as she can…" He took a peek in her direction, wondering if she could hear it in his words—that he was speaking from his heart. But Elena was looking down at her shoes, her breaths were shaky.

He added, "He has always loved her, way before he realized that she loved him back. But I could see it in the way he looked at her. He hoped that one day she would see him the way he saw her. And he saw her, Elena. I mean, Zach—he was always able to read Krystal—to see her in ways she didn't see herself. He knew what she wanted, what she needed, and she never had to say a word. And I think, ultimately, that is what true love is, you know? To want to be someone's hero when they are faced with villains. To want to be the one who saves them. To be their Wonderwall." He choked on a sob, visions of Elena dancing with Giuseppe in their living room filling his mind.

He cleared his throat again. "And I will end it by saying that I wish, more than anything, that I can one day be the man he is."

Silence filled the space between them, while the laughter of the wedding party brought everyone else together. "Wow," she whispered, sniffing once. "That didn't suck at all."

"You think?" he asked, stepping in front of her.

Her smile contradicted the sadness in her eyes. "I should go."

"I know." Damon swallowed the pain of her pulling away. "Matt is waiting."

He reached around and opened her door for her. She started to get in but stopped when he said her name. "Matt might not be too thrilled with you showing up wearing my jacket," he told her.

"Right." She quickly removed his jacket and handed it back to him.

He stepped back, watched her start the engine, hands on the steering wheel, getting ready to pull away, and he questioned himself. Wonder if this was worth the searing ache in his heart.

"Damon," Elena said, her eyes meeting his. "You already are that man. You just need to find a girl who is going to make you want to prove that." Then she drove away, farther and farther. More and more space.

* * *

 **Is Damon too late to get Elena back? I hope my readers will enjoy this chapter. Once again, thank you for all the support and kind reviews. I know some of you are upset and angry about the characters in this story. Be patient...I will try my very best to bring out the wonderful chemistry and dynamics of Delena.**

 **Hugs and kisses to all my readers:)**


	22. Chapter 22

Elena pulled over on the side of the road just outside the Salvatore property and she cried. She didn't know why she cried but she couldn't get Damon's words out of her mind, out of her system. She shouldn't have shown up to his house the night of her birthday because now everything was blurred. The friendship, the feelings, the lines.

She settled her breaths, settled the beating of her heart and tried to focus her vision, but like everything else, it, too, was blurred.

Her phone rang, and she shut her eyes tight, knowing who it was. Matt had been calling relentlessly for the past hour but she had been selfish, enjoying the feeling of being part of the Salvatores' world again.

She cleared her eyes, re-apply the little makeup she wore, forced herself to smile and started the journey to Matt's house. The security guard let her through the gates, through the pristine streets, and onto the Donovan's driveway, and she couldn't help but feel the shift of emotions when she stared up at the mansion, her skin crawling. Because she didn't belong here.

The front door was unlocked so she let herself in, just like Matt had suggested she did in one of the many texts he had sent her. The house was dark, eerily silent, and fear ran up her spine, creeping deep in her chest. It felt like walking into a haunted house during Halloween, monsters and secrets lurking in every corner.

"Matt?" Elena called out.

Matt didn't respond, so she made her way up the stairs and towards his room. He was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, in the dark, a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

"What are you doing, Matt?"

He didn't lift his head when he asked, "Did you have fun?"

She swallowed, afraid. She had never seen Matt like this, but there was something in his tone that stopped her from going to him. She stood by the door, her heart in her throat, her hands behind her. "Yeah," she said. "It was a beautiful wedding."

Matt faced her now, the light outside barely exposing the anger in his eyes. "You said you would be here an hour ago," he said.

"I um…" Elena looked down at the floor, unable to make her contact. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

He stood, his shadow reaching her before he did. "Are you into him?" he whispered, his body an inch from her.

"Who?"

She flinched when his hand slammed on the wall beside her. "Damon! Did you sleep with him?"

"No!" She shouted, looking up at him. "God, no!"

He punched the wall and she shut her eyes, pressed her lips tight, did everything she could to stop the tears because she was afraid that the tears would make it worse. "I have to go." She pushed him out of the way so she could turn for the door but Matt grasped her wrist, twisted until the pain caused her to yelp.

He dropped her hand as soon he heard it. "Damn," he whispered, switching on the light. His eyes were widened when she turned back to him, his face pale. "Elena" He shook his head, his breaths rushed. "I would never hurt you…"

Then he grasped his hair, the anger in his eyes replaced with shock. Guilt slammed into her, forcing a sob to escape. He was so desperate, so defeated, and it was her fault. She should have answered his calls, his pleas for some form of clarity.

Matt sat on the bed and broke down, his shoulders shaking with his withheld emotions. "I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know…"

Elena could barely make out the words through his pain, and so she went to him, ignored her aching wrist and kneeled in front of him. He looked up when she settled her hands on his legs. "I would never hurt you, Elena. You know I wouldn't. You know, baby, I care so much—" He choked on a breath, cutting him off, and she scooted closer, took his face in her hands.

Matt grasped her wrist, gentle and safe, and he kissed it a thousand times over while his eyes met hers, his distress palpable. "It doesn't make sense. Why…?" He trailed off and looked away.

"Why what?" she asked, her hand on his cheek, forcing him to face her.

"If nothing is going on with you guys, then why didn't you ask me to come with you?"

Her guilt forced her heart to stop, but his phone rang, saving her from responding. He didn't go to answer it. He just stared at it flashing and vibrating on his nightstand.

"Are you going to answer it?"

"It is just my dad. I was supposed to be at an important dinner meeting with him, but I couldn't…" His jaw tensed. The phone stopped ringing. "I couldn't fake caring enough. Not tonight." He looked back at me the same time his phone started ringing again.

"Is he going to be mad?" she asked.

The fear rose in her. She recalled Matt telling her about his parents. "Wasted. They always do this. Go to some function, drink too much, come home, argue."

And she would never forget the slamming of the doors and glass breaking. Matt had led her to his walk-in closet the size of her living room and sat on the floor, tugging her hand for her to join him one night after his parents came home arguing. He took the ends of the blanket and wrapped it around both of them. "I used to do this when I was a kid," he said, his voice low, his forehead touching hers. "I used to be afraid, too, but then it happened so many times it became my version of normal. It will stop soon," he said, kissing her cheek. "I promise."

Matt stood. "You need to get out of here before he gets home."

"I'm not leaving you."

The ringing stopped, but a text alert came through. He picked up the phone and read the message. "It is my mum," he said. "They will be home in ten minutes." His eyes locked on hers. "You need to go. Now!"

She stood as well. "I'm not going anywhere!"

He covered the distance between them, placed his hand on the small of her back and his lips on her forehead. "I will call you later. I will be fine," he assured her.

His words did nothing for the panic that kicked in, along with the painful reality that she caused him to act like this. Her lies and her ignoring him at the wedding caused his reaction and…She cared about him. She really liked him and she didn't want anything to happen to him.

"Let's go," she told Matt, taking his hand to force him to come with her.

He frowned. "Go where, Elena?"

"Anywhere!" She turned to him, pleaded with her eyes. "Please, Matt. Let's just go somewhere where we can talk. I don't want you to be alone."

His sighed. "It is okay, Elena."

"I'm afraid your father is upset…"

She had questioned herself how many times Matt had felt the same fear she was feeling, how many times he had watched the clock, waiting for the moment the door opened and his demons haunted him. How many times he had locked himself in that closet, alone and afraid.

He saw the concern in her eyes, forced a smile to comfort her. "It's okay, baby. You don't need to save me. I can deal with him."

"But I do," she rushed out, wiping at her tears. "I care about you, Matt…"

He smiled at her again. "I know, baby. But I want to be alone tonight."

* * *

 **Sorry, I'm sure my readers won't be happy reading about Matt and Elena in this chapter. But this is how the story is going to unfold...Trust me, there will be more Delena coming soon.**

 **I can tell you that I'm very, very excited that this story has received so many reviews. Thank you for all the support so far!**


	23. Chapter 23

Damon choked on whatever the cafeteria lady passed as food and looked up at Elena, his eyes widened. "Say that again?"

"Have you ever had a threesome?" Her tone was nonchalant, but the red in her cheeks gave her away.

Leaning forward, he glance around them, made sure he was not dreaming because of all the things that he had imagined coming out of Elena Gilbert's mouth, the word "threesome" was not one of them. "Is Matt, like, pressuring you to—"

"No!" She threw a plastic fork at his head, hitting him square on the cheek and thankfully distracting him from his images of her and Matt. "It's just…" She leaned closer, lowered her voice. "The other day we were in his house and—"

"Stop!"

"—and his parents were arguing. His mother was saying that his father had a threesome…"

Damon frowned. "And what did Matt say about it?"

She shrugged. "Not a lot. He said his parents do argue a lot and he won't pay much attention to what they said when they argue."

"And you believe him?"

"I mean…" She leaned closer again. "I guess when you are angry, you can potentially say something mean to hurt the other person, right?"

"Do you think Matt has ever had a threesome if his father…"

"I don't know." She exhaled deeply. "Do you think he would..."

"Do you trust him?"

"I don't know."

He could see by the way she lowered her gaze, bit down on her bottom lip that she was lying. She didn't believe Matt's words but she wanted to and that was eating at her, clawing away at her thoughts, and Damon got it.

"He is with you all the time, Elena," he reassured her.

"Yeah, on weekends. But what happens during the week when I'm not around?"

He shrugged. "It's college."

"That's what he said!" She added, "But what does that mean?"

Damon was already sick of the conversation, sick of talking about Matt. "Can we talk about something else?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like what?"

"What are you doing for winter break?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "My dad is going to Richmond to meet Jules' family and Matt is home so he will probably just hang at my house."

"New Year's?"

"No idea. Why?"

"Dad joining uncle Zach on some fishing trip. But I'm never keen on fishing. So, Stefan and I are going to have a few people over to my place. It will be low key. We are not really down for anything big this year. But you are welcome to come."

Elena scrunched her nose. "Remember the first time we did New Year's together?"

"You mean that time Mason thought it was a great idea to steal a bottle of vodka from his parents?"

She held her stomach and groaned. "Don't remind me."

"You puked so much that night."

"In my defence, it was my first time drinking and we were thirteen!"

"You kept asking for God to take you away for all your sins."

"Shut up!"

Then her eyes widened and her face paled, and Damon followed her gaze across the room to Matt walking towards them. He smiled at her but glared at Damon. As soon as he got to them, he leaned down, and before Elena had time to decline, he practically sucked her entire face into his sloppy, gaping mouth, putting on a show for the entire cafeteria.

Damon looked away, bile high in his throat, feeling sick in his gut. Matt sat next to her, his arm around her shoulder while she wiped his drool from her mouth. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

It was Friday, which meant Matt was here for practice, but he was not normally this early. At least not that Damon knew of.

Matt narrowed his eyes. "Why? Did I interrupt your little rendezvous?" He raised an eyebrow, his attempt at intimidation. "Are you not happy to see me?"

Elena glanced at Damon and then at Matt. "I am, it's just—"

"What did I interrupt?" Matt cut in and pointed to Damon. "Were you guys planning on what time Salvatore here was going to climb through your window tonight?"

Damon leaned back, unfazed at Matt's attempt to intimidate him. He smirked, right in Matt's face, and how he wished he could punch him. "I use her door and I don't need to be invited."

"Damon!" Elena gasped.

"I cut out early," Matt said to her, "wanted to see you. I miss you."

She lowered her hand and smiled at him.

Damon was irritated but he tried to stay calm. "I was just telling Elena—"

"I don't care what you are trying to tell my girlfriend."

Her hand lowered under the table, probably to Matt's leg, and she whispered his name.

It was hard for Damon to his irritation in check. He forced a smile, let Elena knew it was okay and said, "I was just telling Elena that I was having a few people over for New Year's." His fake kindness even went as far as to say, "You are both welcome to come." And the bile was in his throat again.

"We can't," Matt said, picking at the food on Elena's plate. "My buddies and I rented out a houseboat for the night."

"You know Elena gets sea sick, right?"

Matt hated him. Damon could tell by the tick in Matt's jaw. He hated that Damon knew more about his girlfriend, and Damon was smirking at him because Damon didn't hate him. He was staring at Damon but Damon didn't care. Damon only continued to smirk at him.

Elena gasped Matt's arm and forced him to break their staring competition.

She asked Matt, "You want to get out of here? I have nothing important for the rest of the day."

And she left with Matt, but not before Matt gave Damon another one of those pathetic attempts at intimidation. They walked out of the cafeteria with his hand on her back and Matt thought he had won.

But he didn't. Damon knew he didn't.

Matt gave Damon hell during practice and Damon expected nothing less, so he came prepared and got Mason in on the joke, too. "Yes Sir, Drill Sergeant, Sir!" was their new response to everything.

God, Damon loved that look in Matt's eyes—it was glorious, really, to see Matt's anger rose and rose and rose some more. It earned Mason and Damon an afternoon detention each from Coach Anderman, their real coach, and they pretended like they cared until they turned their backs on him and snickered to themselves like they were eight, not eighteen.

"Totally worth it," Mason said, bumping Damon's fist because he was always on Damon's side.

They walked towards the locker rooms and Mason kept walking while Damon stopped in front of Elena. She was always here, always waiting for her beloved. Her glare instantly wiped the smirk off Damon's face. She sneered, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Damon wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his T-shirt and shrugged. "It was just a joke, Elena. Christ."

She stepped closer, her tone somewhere between a whisper and a growl. "You think this is a game, Damon, and it is not. He was already on edge after that shit you pulled at lunch, and you keep pushing his buttons!" She poked a finger into his chest, over and over, harder and harder. Buttons. "You have gone out of your way to piss him off, to make him angry, and it's all well and good for you because you are not the one who has to deal with him. I am!" Then she stormed off, her feet heavy, stomp, stomp, stomping on his heart.

Damon threw his arms out and shouted, late to retort, "If your boyfriend has a problem with me, I'm right here!"

She turned swiftly and wiped at her eyes. "That's not how it works, Damon! Grow up!" And she ran away this time. More distance, more space and even though he could close the gap and catch up to her, he would still know that his actions caused his fate, and somewhere along the way, he had lost Elena.

x x x

It was 11:49 again.

Different month.

Different day.

A few of Damon's friends were here, Mason included, but there were more of Stefan's friends than his friends. They were drunk. Well, they were. Damon was beyond it. He had spent the past few days thinking about Elena and wondering how she was. Where she was. She hadn't replied to a single text and every time he called, her phone was switched off. But, Matt was home and Matt despised him and she loved Matt and maybe she even loved Matt enough to despise him the same way.

Damon didn't normally sit around at his own parties grasping his phone like a baby. He should give up on her like he should give up on his phone, but his phone was what connected him to her, and it was his security blanket.

It was not as if he expected her to call, but he wanted her to. And maybe that was why Mason was grabbing his shoulder and telling him to, "Let it go, dude," while he pointed across the room to a girl who came with his girl—a girl Damon had never seen before, a girl who was looking at him with eager eyes, most likely because she was promised by Mason and his girl that Damon would, in fact, sleep with her.

11:50 and New Girl had ten minutes to convince him that sleeping with her won't mess his chances with a girl who was in love with a guy who despised him.

"She is probably making love with Matt right now, and you are sitting here like a junkie waiting for his next hit. Let. It. Go."

Mason was right.

But still, Damon did nothing. Just sat there. Watched the seconds ticked by.

11:55 and New Girl sat down next to him. "Rad party," she cooed.

In which decade was "rad" still a word people used? Pretty sure it was pre-Elena and he was walking around in a red eye mask, red knee pads and a red cape his mother made him so he could pretend to be Raphael. Ninja Turtles didn't even wear capes, but his mother was that awesome.

He smiled, look at her properly for the first time. She was not as hot as Mason's girl and nowhere near as hot as Elena, but she would do because he needed to let it go. He had to. He casually rested his arm on the back of the couch and leaned in close. "Who is your favourite ninja turtle?" he asked her.

When Elena had asked him the same question, he told her it was Raphael. Then she had asked why, and he had said that he thought, deep down, he wanted to be Raphael. He was the bad boy, the black sheep of the brotherhood.

Elena had laughed, said that Mason was more suitable to be Raphael. He had agreed, but he hadn't said that he was most like him. He had said he wanted to be him. Some days he wanted to not care about anything, to not have the responsibility of being the oldest brother weighing on his shoulders. "You are more like Leonardo. The leader. The one they all look to for help," Elena had said.

"Umm…" New Girl pursed her lips, looked up at the ceiling, contemplated like he had just asked her the most complicated question in the world. "Michelangelo," she finally said.

It was 11:57.

"Michelangelo?" he asked. "Why?"

She giggled. "Because pizza?"

Elena's favourite turtle was Donatello. "Because he is so smart without being obnoxious about it, you know? He doesn't make the others feel dumb for not getting it. And he is stealth but not just in combat. In life. It is like he is invisible until the world needs to see him." Damn, she was amazing, wasn't she? Damon could have had amazing. Instead, he was stuck with pizza.

11:58 and a friend of Stefan turned on the TV so they could all sit around and watch the clock tick down together.

"You want to go to your room or something?" New Girl asked. Her hand was on Damon's leg and he didn't ask for it or want it there, but when his eyes meet hers, he saw the desperation. She came to a party at a stranger's house with her friend who was with a guy that had a friend who (they all thought) would be willing to sleep with her and she came because she wanted him to sleep with her, to erase the memory of some guy that had been haunting her dreams, her thoughts, day and night and Damon got it, New Girl. He really did.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Ellie." Ellie or Elena. Close enough. Because that was who he would be thinking of even when he was with the New Girl.

"So?" She blinked.

Damon sighed. "You are not even going to ask what my name is?"

"I know your name. I just don't really care."

11:59, someone tapped his shoulder and he looked up to see Stefan standing above them, phone in one hand, girl in the other. "It is Elena."

His place was too loud, too many people, too many drinks, and so he took the phone from Stefan and he went out the front door, down the steps, and into the living room of the main house where it was dark and it was quiet and it was still 11:59 when he brought the phone to his ear and whispered, "Donatello?"

It was not as quiet where Elena was, but she still heard what he said and she laughed.

You get it, Elena. You are not pizza.

"That was random," she said.

"How is the houseboat going?"

"I'm in bed in a room on the lowest level, in the dark, and I have puked four times and haven't had a single thing to drink."

Damon leaned back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for his heart to settle while he heard the countdown began. From his apartment and through the phone, people shouted ten, nine, eight…they ignored the counting, his favourite pastime, and when the fireworks began to explode somewhere in the distance, Elena asked, "How is your night going?"

"Is Matt there? Is he taking care of you?"

She sighed, and he waited, not giving her response to her question because it mattered as much as his name did for New Girl. "He is up on the deck," she said. "Is that what it is called? A deck? I don't know. He is with his friends…I don't know them. But they are there, and he is there, and…"

"And so you thought you would call me because you are lonely and you want to at least be with someone when the clock strikes midnight?" He was too drunk to even contemplate how that came out, but he heard her shift as if she was rolling around in bed, and she was sick, sea sick, and he told Matt that, but it didn't matter to Matt obviously because Elena didn't matter to him like she mattered to Damon.

"It is not like that, Damon."

It finally occurred to Damon that he was holding on to two phones and she didn't call his, so he asked, "Why did you call Stefan's phone?"

She shifted again. "Matt made me block your number."

"Made you?"

"It is not like that," she said again.

He should have been Raphael, the bad boy, the black sheep. Maybe then she would have forgiven him like she handed out forgiveness to Matt. "So what is it like then? Explain it to me."

"He just…he sees you as a threat. That's all. Have you been trying to get hold of me? Did you need me for something?"

"No." Damon sat up and looked down at his phone. 12:02 and Matt hadn't even checked in on her. "I just needed you, Elena, and you are drifting, far and deep into this guy's web."

"I feel sick," she murmured, and his anger faded.

"Did you take any pills for it?"

"Yeah. They help some. But I'm here all night and—" It was suddenly silent on her end.

"Who are you talking to?" Matt asked, his tone as dark as the room Damon was sitting in.

Damon sat up, alert. But the call was cut off and he stared into the darkness, promised himself he wouldn't call back because he didn't want to make things worse—whatever that meant—and so he sat and he stewed over his feelings, his hurt, until he forced himself to his feet. He didn't go back to his apartment, to his party, to New Girl. Instead, he climbed the stairs to his parents' room and he got into their bed.

12:48 and a text came through on Stefan's phone: _Raphael was a rebel. Some even called him a lost cause. But you are not lost, Damon. In fact, most days I fear you are still the centre of my universe._

* * *

 **I didn't really expect such a strong emotional reaction from my readers and some of my friends...I like both Damon and Elena together, there is no doubt about it.  
**

 **This story is a portrait of what my friend had been through - a story of 2 young people who really messed up their relationship at the start and then they grew up and realised the mistakes they had both made. In the end they still went back together. There is a saying, if he or she is meant to be yours, he or she will be meant to be yours.**

 **Trust me, Delena is definitely end game:)**

 **Check out those amazing writers I have mentioned. "This isn't what we meant" by scarlett2112 is a beautiful story - I'm totally in love with it:) Captive of her beauty by Salvatoreboys4ever, Healing you by Rachel3003 (she is an amazing young writer), zaewrites has a lot of fantastic one shot (make sure you check it out), Stumbling upon by VitsAsh etc.**

 **Take care:) And thank you for all the support.**


	24. Chapter 24

School started again, new year, new semester, new hope.

Matt was back at university.

Damon watched from a distance as Elena stepped out of her car in baggy sweatpants and an even baggier sweatshirt, and he wondered if she hadn't managed to go home and find clothes that actually fitted her or if her boyfriend had "made" her started dressing in his clothes to warn off any threats, aka Damon.

They hadn't spoken since her phone call New Year's Eve, and he didn't even think to try. He was blocked, from her phone and from her life, and maybe it was like the night she came to visit me on her eighteenth birthday and they talked about their first Non-Date. He questioned whether they saw things differently. If they always had.

Last year, he dated a girl—Bethany—who made an off-handed joke about Elena being a loner because she spent her free period on her own just outside the library, knitting. He ended the relationship the next day, and when Elena asked about the breakup, he told her Bethany had bad breath and kissing her was like licking the inside of a trash can. He knew he could lie and be as crass as he wanted because he knew Elena would never repeat what he said to anyone. She had always been a key holder to all his secrets.

But now she was dating a guy who treated him and their friendship like shit, and she made excuses for him. "It is not like that, Damon."

And when he asked her to convince him otherwise, she couldn't even come up with a decent lie. And then she texted him, almost an entire hour later, with the most cryptic lie of all. Bullshit, he was the centre of her universe. And bullshit she put him on a pedestal, because if that was true then to her, Matt was up in the clouds.

Elena didn't even look up at Damon when she walked past, her head lowered, books held close to her chest. She looked different. She had tied her hair up into a ponytail.

And to think he was actually nervous about seeing her today. He stood in front of his mirror and planned out what he would say to her. It started off with the standard stuff. "Hi, how are you?"…"Did you have a good break?" Even though he knew how she spent her Christmas (at her house with Matt while her father was in Richmond with Jules' family), he would still ask her about that, too. "How did you hold up after New Year's Eve?" was another one. And then he would be done with the bullshit banter and asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?" Then he would go on a tirade about Matt Donovan and how he didn't think Matt was good enough for her and "Why the hell are you even with him, Elena?"

But no.

She didn't see him standing here, waiting for her, wanting to expose her bullshit relationship.

She didn't see me at all.

And when she entered the school, the door closing behind her, blocking him from her presence, it all became clear—maybe she never truly saw him at all.

It had been three days and eight hours since she didn't see me, but she was seeing him now, stepping out of his truck and looking up at his apartment stairs where she sat, waiting for him to come home from school. How she managed to get here before him, Damon had no idea. Maybe she wasn't at school. He didn't see her, but then again, he stopped looking for her. He was blocked.

His phone alerted him to a text, and he paused, made her wait, and read the message.

 _It is Ellie from your NYE party. My friend gave me your number. I wanted to see if you wanted to get together sometime. Maybe grab a bite to eat?_

Damon replied: _Tonight? What are you craving?_

He hoped it was cock because it had been a long time since he had been with Elena, and he hadn't been with anyone since. It would feel like eating a frozen meal after a gourmet steak.

She wrote back: _Pizza_.

How ironic.

"Damon?" Elena was standing now, watching him from above

"What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you," she said. She shuffled on her feet, and Damon got it because he felt the same way in her room. She didn't know if she belonged here and the truth was, maybe she didn't.

Damon didn't want her on his steps, near his house, near him. He was blocked, remember? But by the time he made his way up each step, she was looking at him with those eyes, and he swore it, those eyes held a secret power that could bring him to him knees. "Are you busy tonight?" she asked, and she was looking at his phone like she knew all his secrets. She did.

He wanted to tell her that he had a date with a girl he met on New Year's Eve, but he couldn't say that to her. Not when she has those eyes. "I can cancel."

"Feel like hanging out?" she asked. "Like old times."

Old times was a phrase that shouldn't exist in an eighteen-year old's vocabulary because they hadn't lived enough to have "old times." He told her that as he opened the door, and she laughed. Her laugh to his ears was what money was to the Donovans—a tool used to manipulate reality. He knew this. He felt this. But he was weak, and he conceded, kept the door open for her to enter.

He sent off a text to Ellie: _Something came up. Sorry._

Elena was already in his kitchen washing the dishes piled high in the sink, like old times.

Small talk shouldn't seem like small talk when one was with a friend. It should just be conversation, but his mind was buzzing, trying to come up with "small talk" and there were birds outside and they were loud, too loud, and he couldn't think. She finished the dishes and turned to Damon. She was wearing clothes that actually fitted her, a little too well, skinny jeans and a loose sweater.

"You don't have to do this." Damon motioned towards the dishes.

She shrugged. "I don't mind. Just like old times."

There was a moment of silence.

Not only silence but also awkwardness.

Later she was going through the kitchen cabinets, and he didn't know what she was looking for. If it was the good old days, she could forget it. She wouldn't find them there. She pulled out a bag of Doritos and salsa and went to the fridge for the cheese. She was making nachos because she was desperate to find the old times, and he was desperate to know what the hell she was doing here. "How are things, like, with your brother and stuff?" Elena asked. "How's it all going?"

Damon didn't respond.

"How is Newton? Did you bring him to see the vet again?"

"Yeah. The vet said he is stable."

"That's good."

Okay, so maybe her being here wasn't so much awkward as it was terrifying. She wanted to go back to the way things were, and Damon wanted that, too. A little too much. But she had the power to take it away, to block him, and then what? _What happens to me, Elena?_

It took two minutes for her to make the nachos and bring the bowl over to the couch along with two glasses of water. They sat on the couch and shared the nachos, "I was thinking about Uncle Zach and Krystal."

"Oh yeah?"

"Sarah said they are happy."

He smiled a little. "Yeah, they are."

"You like this batch?" she asked, pointing to the bowl of nachos.

"They are good."

"Good is the enemy of great, Damon."

He gave her a cheesy grin. "They are great!"

She laughed, and his reality shifted, just an inch. And just like that, small talk turned to conversation. They finished the nachos, and she set the bowl on the coffee table and sat sideways on the couch, her legs up, knees bent, toes poking his leg. "So, I have some news."

Damon took her feet, settled them on his lap and turned to her, his arm resting on the top of the couch. Old times was good times. Great times. "What's your news?"

"There is a slight chance I will still be able to go to University of Virginia."

His heart raced. "How? Did your mom—"

"No!" She shook her head and scoffed. "Forget about her. I hate her so much."

"So, what happened?" he asked.

Elena sat higher, shoulders straight. Then she went on to tell him about Matt's mother's friend who was the dean of admission at University of Virginia and how they had a meeting over winter break and now she was looking into a bunch of scholarships. "It probably won't happen this year. I might have to take a year off or go to community college for the first year, but she thinks it is very doable," Elena said, her eyes bright.

"But if you skip a year, that means that you are going to miss Matt's senior year."

She looked at Damon like he was stupid. "I'm no Felicity and Matt is definitely no Ben Covington."

Damon blinked.

She giggled. "Never mind. The point is that Sue—"

"The dean of admissions?"

"Yeah. She says that to heighten my chances I need to add more school activities—show school spirit and all that, and I have literally done nothing so I'm trying to cram it all into one semester and so I signed up for the spring play."

"You?" he asked, incredulous. "On stage?"

"God no." She nudged his leg with her heel. "I'm designing and making the costumes."

"That's good,"

"Good or great?"

"Great, Elena. It is great."

"And we have someone to design the sets but…"

"But what?"

Her words were rushed as if she already knew his answer. "We don't have anyone to build them, and I know you can do it, Damon, it—"

"No!"

"But you would be so great at it."

Damon sighed, knowing he was about to disappoint her. "Elena, we are three days into the semester, and it is senior year, and I have track meets and practice and—"

"And it will be the last thing we get to do together," she said, and he was listening again.

"How much time and how closely do we,"—he pointed between them—"work together?"

"Is that a yes?"

She was looking at him with those eyes.

Those goddamn eyes.

She practically leaped into his arms and onto his lap and she didn't need a verbal response because she knew him. "This is going to be great, Damon. You will see!"

Elena had dinner with his family—old times—and Giuseppe forced her to spend the night because John was still in Richmond with Jules, and Giuseppe didn't like the idea of her being in her house alone.

Damon didn't know she was alone, or he would have offered her his bed. He would have even gone as far as not sleeping in it with her. She agreed, eagerly. At 7:00, he headed back to the apartment where Elena was waiting for him. He sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and did his homework while she sprawled out on the couch and watched a movie. At 10:30, she was fast asleep. At 10:48, he stopped watching her sleep and got a blanket to cover her. Then he went to his room and sent Sarah a text:

 _Do you know what a Felicity and a Ben are?_

Sarah: _OMGOMGOMGOMG. YES! Why?_

 _Who are they?_

Sarah: _Who are they to YOU?!_

 _Elena and I were talking about University of Virginia, and she said she was no Felicity and Matt was no Ben._

Sarah: _Well, duh. Matt is more like her Noel (but an asshole version of him) or maybe even that artsy guy she had that fling with. Dude! YOU are her Ben Covington. Seriously._

 _Sorry. I'm lost._

Sarah: _There is this amazing thing called Internet Use it._

Sarah: _PS - If Matt isn't her Ben, it is a good thing, bro._

At 2 am and after numerous searches that would make any hacker assume he was a mildly obsessed, romance-drama circa late '90s TV junkie, Damon found out that Ben Covington was kind of a dick just like him, but he loved Felicity, he just didn't know what to do with that love.

* * *

 **Not sure whether my readers had watched the show I had mentioned above...I quite enjoyed that show at that time:) Hopefully you guys/gals will enjoy this chapter. Trust me, there will be more Delena coming up soon!  
**

 **Thank you again for the support and kind reviews. I don't like Matt, too...but as a writer, I kind of have to write some characters that I don't like to make the story interesting;)**


	25. Chapter 25

The day after Elena's visit, Damon told Giuseppe about the spring play and about not really having time for it but agreeing only because it meant spending time with Elena. "It's like I'm a dog, and she has just thrown me a bone," he told his father.

Giuseppe said, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Which was completely irrelevant, as were his next life-lesson analogies all related to dogs. Then went on to tell Damon about Rusty, the German Shepard he had growing up. When Giuseppe had done, Damon just stare at him. "Sorry," his father chuckled, "Kind of went off on a tangent there, huh?"

"Just a tad."

"So what are you going to do?" Giuseppe asked.

Damon rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling the stress from the added workload that hadn't even started yet.

"I have an idea," Giuseppe told him. "It will be good. Trust me."

Giuseppe's idea wasn't just good. It was great. Brilliant, even.

He made Stefan did it, too. School spirit and all.

Damon did his part and got Mason in on it, too. "Just think of the girls, Mason. They change into costumes right there in the open." They didn't, he just lied to Mason.

It had been three weeks now and Mason, Stefan and Damon had found a rhythm and they worked well together.

Between building for the set, track meets, training, family, Damon barely had time to breathe, but Elena was right. He was great at it, and he and Elena did get to spend a lot of time together.

Old times had become now times and small talk was purely conversation. Even when it came to Matt. "You heading to University of Virginia this weekend or is Matt coming home?" he asked, sitting opposite her, their legs crossed, making flowers out of tissue paper and wire. Hers looked like they belonged in a museum. Meanwhile, Mason and Stefan attempted to piece together the set for the infamous balcony scene.

"I'm not sure," she mumbled, looking at the time.

Damon looked at the time, too. It was 4:48 on a Thursday afternoon and his crew, she, and he were the only ones left in the drama room. Miss Brown, the drama teacher, should be here, too. But she was busy sorting out the costumes. "Are you waiting for him to call?" he pushed.

Elena shrugged and focused on the flower that was already done. She didn't really talk much about Matt anymore, at least not to Damon, and whether that was a conscious decision she had made or the hype of Matt had worn off, Damon was not sure.

"You guys are still together, right?" he tried, digging for more information.

"Yeah," she said quickly. "We are still together. It is just hard…you know…" She glanced up at him to search for a reaction.

She wouldn't see anything. No anger. No spite. Hell, it took Ben and Felicity what literally felt like an eternity to finally get their shit together. Four seasons and one abrupt ending and Damon still didn't have closure. But he did learn that his best tactic was to wait. And so waiting was what he was doing. Plus, Lillian was a big believer in fate. If it was meant to be, it would happen. Eventually.

"Are you missing him?" he asked.

She cleared her throat, looked up at him, her eyes glazed.

Damn. "Did I say something?"

Her head moved, side to side, slowly, slowly. "There's so much I want to tell you," she breathed. "But it is…"

He shuffled closer, placed his hands on her knees. "It is what, Elena?"

She swallowed before she looked away. "It's…"

He heard footsteps approaching, but he was too focused, too addicted to turn to the sound. "Elena?" he pushed, squeezing her knees.

"Elena?"

Her eyes were huge, her breath caught in her throat while Matt stood above Damon like an angry giant, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Get your hands off my girlfriend, Salvatore."

Elena pushed Damon's hands away. "I didn't know… you didn't say…" She stumbled to her feet and stood between Damon and Matt, her hands on Matt's chest, protecting Damon. "Let's go, Matt."

Damon didn't need her protection and he stood, his chest out, shoulders square and looked down on Matt. "We are just friends, asshole!"

"You touch all your friends like that?" Matt growled, his words echoing through the room.

Mason and Stefan heard the noise and came running. Stefan got between Damon and Matt. "Leave it alone, man," he said to his brother, his tone calm. He should be Leonardo, the ninja turtle. The smart, tranquil, leader of the brotherhood.

"What the hell is going on?" Mason snapped.

Elena tugged on Matt's arm, forcing him towards the door.

Damon waited three hours and forty-six minutes to text Elena from Stefan's phone.

Stefan: I hope you are okay. Are we still on to finish up the set tomorrow afternoon? DE

That was what their friendship had become, sneaking in text messages and signing off in code (DE = Delena) to settle her boyfriend's jealousy and keep the peace with them.

It took Elena nine minutes to respond.

Elena: I'm fine. I shouldn't have let Damon touch me like that. I know that now. I will see you tomorrow at 3 pm. Great job, today! Thanks for everything, Stefan.

Damon gave Stefan back his phone and didn't bother with a reply, because what the hell, Elena?

She didn't show the next day.

She didn't call, didn't text, didn't email.

She was not at school Monday, so he made contact with her.

Stefan" You sick or something? Need me to come around? - DE.

Elena: No. I'm not home. I won't be at school for a couple of days, but I'm okay. Thanks for checking in, Stefan.

It was not just a couple of days Elena was off school. It was an entire week. Damon called John to ask how she was and John told him that she got a horrible flu when she was at University of Virginia over the weekend. She was so sick that she can't even come home. She was holed up in his dorm room but it was fine, because Matt was there and he was taking care of her.

Damon wondered if John knew about New Year's Eve and the houseboat and Matt's lack of taking care of her then—one night. How the hell Matt had taken care of her for an entire week?

If Damon didn't have to finish those sets and compete in a race, he would be in his truck, driving to University of Virginia, punching Matt in the face and throwing Elena over his shoulder to take her home. She would sit in his place and he would take care of her. Soup, meds and back rubs. He would nurse her back to health and she would call him her hero and she would dump Matt.

But, he did have to do all those things, and he couldn't even call her to see how she was because Matt still had him blocked.

Monday rolled around, opening night, and everyone involved in the play, including Miss Brown, was going out of their ever-loving minds because the costumes! Where the hell were the costumes? Damon began to panic as much as everyone else because now he felt like he was part of this insanity called The Spring Play, and dammit, he worked hard for it. In the afternoon, Stefan tried calling Elena. Mason tried calling Elena. Even Damon tried calling Elena—it didn't even ring.

Then Sarah said "You know, maybe Matt is one of those crazy cats who's, like, stupid obsessed with our little Elena, and he has got her hidden in a dungeon or something. She probably loves him because of that…what's it called? You know that thing…" She clicked her fingers while Damon's brain throbbed. "When the captured fall for their captor?"

"Stockholm syndrome," Stefan told him.

"Nonsense," Mason said.

"Or you know," Sarah continued, and Damon wished she could shut up. "Maybe he's that in love with her he killed her and then himself, like this here,"—she raised a finger, spined it in circles—"Romero and Juliet."

"Just shut up, Sarah," Stefan warned.

But for some unknown reasons, Damon actually believed (for a second) that Sarah could be right.

"Costumes are here!" Miss Brown shouted, and Damon practically sprinted over to her.

"Where is Elena?"

"Who?"

There were people everywhere now, trying to find their costumes amongst the pile in her arms.

"Elena!" Where is Elena?"

"She just dropped these off. She has gone back home. She must really not be feeling well."

Damon told the boys he was out and put Stefan in charge, then wasted nineteen seconds arguing with Mason about why he was not in charge simply because he was older than Stefan.

Luckily, Sarah interrupted. "Get over it, Mason. Let Damon find his Juliet."

Damon made his escape while Sarah and Mason went toe-to-toe, and he got in his car and he thought about Elena. He only cared about her right now.

He parked in Elena's driveway and went right to the basement door. The outside light wasn't on, but he didn't expect it to be because he hadn't knocked on it since September 25th.

There was no answer, so he moved to the front door. Again, no answer. He went around the house looking through all the windows, but there didn't seem to be anyone home. Elena's car was here, but John wasn't. Maybe he took her to the hospital or something. Maybe it was more than just a horrible flu.

He called John. John said he was at Jules's place and they were getting ready to see the play. He didn't know where Elena was. She was not answering her phone.

Damon pictured Elena in a dungeon.

He pictured Elena dead in a dungeon with dead Matt next to her.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Then his phone rang.

It was Giuseppe.

His father told him he should come home because Elena wasn't in a dungeon. She was not dead. She was sitting on his apartment stairs.

Damon was out of breath when he got to her and it was not because he was unfit, it was because he was worried. He picked her up off the stairs and held her tight, and she winced in pain.

"What's with you?" Elena asked when Damon put her back down.

"Dungeons and Stockholm and Romero."

Her eyes widened. "What?!"

Damon took a calming breath. "Sarah"

She raised her hand between them. "Say no more."

The second they were in his apartment, she looked over at the empty kitchen sink. "No dishes?"

Damon shook his head. "No dishes." Then he took her hand and led her over to the couch. "Sit," he ordered.

Elena sat.

He went to the kitchen, took out the canned chicken soup, poured it into a pot and switched on the stove. Then he got a microwavable heating pad from his room and threw it in the microwave, waited for one minute, took it out, stirred the pot, went to Elena, and placed the heating pad on her back where he knew she liked to be rubbed. "What are you doing, Damon?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You are sick."

"And you are sweet," she said.

He got the soup, put it in a bowl, and watched her eat the soup. After she put the empty bowl down on the coffee table, she said, "You know why I always do your dishes when I walk in?"

She was gone a week, and Damon missed her voice and her hair and her eyes and her coconuts, lime and Elena. "Why?"

"Because I never know what to do when I walk in here, so I do the dishes and you either sit on the couch and turn on the TV or you sit on the floor and do your homework, and once you are settled, I follow your lead."

"Really?" he asked.

She smiled. "Really."

"And what would happen if I went to my bedroom and stripped naked?"

She laughed and he laughed, too.

Damon pulled her feet on his lap and noticed what she was wearing for the first time. Baggy sweatpants and an oversized hoodie and it was not even cold outside. "How long were you waiting for me and did you walk here?"

"Not long and yes, why?"

"Because you are all bundled up. Are you cold? You want me to turn the heat up?"

She poked his leg with her feet, and he started rubbing them through her socks.

Her head tilted back on the arm of the couch, and her eyes were closed, and and she murmured, "I have to tell you something."

"Okay."

"I broke up with Matt."

* * *

 **Elena broke up with Matt...I'm sure you guys/gals must be happy now, LOL! Well, personally I don't think her relationship with Matt will ever work. Deep inside her heart, Damon is always there. I know a lot of you aren't a fans of Elena at the moment because of her actions. When you are 18, you think you are all grown up but in a way, you are still immature. And that's why these 2 young people mess up everything...even older adult like me can mess things up, LOL!  
**

 **Anyway, thanks for all the support and kind reviews!**


	26. Chapter 26

Girls and guys were so different. Girls said things like: "We loved each other, but we didn't like each other, or maybe it was the other way around."

Guys said: "We were both kind of over it, you know?"

And Damon had never been on this end of a breakup story, one being told by a girl, and he kind of wished that he had been prepared for this. As it turned out, Elena was the one who broke up with Matt, yet she was the one crying on Damon's shoulder while Matt was probably balls deep in angry rebound sex. "I know it sounds dumb," she said, sniffling into Damon's shirt. "It's just he was the first real boyfriend I have ever had, and he had become such a huge part of my life and now…now he is gone."

The conversation had been going for thirty-eight minutes, and Damon swore it was like reeling in a fish. _You throw the line, they bite, then slowly, gently, you have to pull in the line, and sometimes they fight, move away, and you can't rush so you keep going, slowly, gently._

She kept making up excuses, and the excuses turned to regrets, and the regrets turned to reasons to go back to Matt and slowly, gently, with Damon's words, he reeled her back in.

She said Matt was controlling, and Damon agreed. She said Matt was unpredictable, and Damon agreed again although he had no idea what did she mean, but she also said that Matt was there for her at a time when she felt like no one else was, and Damon reluctantly agreed.

"I never really thought that I had confidence issues, you know?" she said, staring ahead. "He had this way of making me see things differently. Or just, making me see in general. And I think I needed that. After what happened with you and me—"

"Elena," Damon said through a sigh, cutting her off.

Elena turned to him. "No, it is okay. I can talk about it now…and I think we should talk about it. Don't you?"

He didn't think her being here, her saying "I broke up with Matt" would lead to this; her and him talking about his regrets.

"I never meant to hurt you," Damon told her. "When I left you that night, I had every intention of coming back to you. Of spending…" _the rest of my life with you…_ …"the night with you. And then…"

"I know." She laughed once. "I think I had so much invested in that one night. It was stupid."

"Ouch."

"No. What we did wasn't stupid. I didn't mean that. I meant I had so much invested in you and me and that was stupid."

"And now?"

"Now what?"

"How do you feel about you and me?"

She smile and dropped her gaze. "I feel like I just got out of a really complicated relationship so…"

"So…I will wait?"

"Damon," she whispered, her smile getting wider.

"When did you actually break up with him?"

Her shoulders hunched, mind searching. "I haven't been completely honest…with a lot of people."

"What does that mean?"

"I haven't been sick," she admitted. "I have just been…gone."

"What does gone mean? And answer my question."

"Promise you won't be mad?"

Damon nodded once.

"I broke up with him the night after he showed up at school. Matt drove us to his dorm while I spent the entire ride preparing what I was going to say and how I was going to say it—break up with him, I mean—and we got to his room, and I did and said everything I prepared in the car, and I was going to call you, ask you to pick me up, but he refused to let me leave."

"Refused how?"

"Just stood by the door, you know? I was going to wait for him to fall asleep and sneak out of there, but Matt doesn't sleep—"

"He doesn't sleep? Like, ever?"

Her head moved from side to side, but her eyes stayed locked on his. "Ever since he has been back on the team, he has started taking these ADHD meds, and now and then he crashes, and crashes hard, but he doesn't actually sleep, you know?"

"He has ADHD?" he asked.

"No! That's the thing. He doesn't. But he buys them off some guy on campus and he pops them like candy along with all these other meds and it keeps him awake and alert for days on end so he can keep up with his classes and his training and his parents' bullshit in general."

"Where the hell have you been, Elena?"

She sighed and took a sip of her water. "I managed to escape—"

"Escape?!"

Christ, maybe Sarah was right.

"You know what I mean! The next morning, he went to meet the guy for some anti-anxiety drugs, and I left, but I didn't have a car, so I caught a bus back to Mystic Falls and by the time I got there I was exhausted, and Matt had been calling like crazy and I knew if I went home he would find me and want to talk some more so I got a hotel room for the night and I have been there since."

His eyes widened. "You have been there for more than a week?"

She nodded.

"But your dad said you were sick."

Another sigh. "I asked Matt to tell him that, and we both kept up the front. I told Matt I was visiting my mum—he doesn't know about her. Not like you do."

Damon said nothing.

She added, "I just haven't been ready to face Matt or my dad or you, and I needed the time. You understand, right?"

"Yeah, Elena, I understand."

And with the explanations done, Elena went back to crying, and Damon did his best to let her go through her emotions on her own, no matter how hard it was not to shake her and tell her that her tears were wasteful and Matt was a dick.

An hour later, Stefan and Mason visited the apartment and told them how opening night went. The rundown went like this:

Sarah nearly punched Mason.

Stefan got a girl's number.

Juliet said, "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?" and someone shouted, "Sexing!" and the entire theatre laughed and laughed and laughed.

But Elena didn't. She smiled, but she still looked upset and the guys saw it and they made an excuse to leave, and Elena went to wash the pot and the ladle and the bowl used for her soup Damon had made when she wasn't even sick. "I'm sorry you missed it," she said when Damon stepped behind her.

"I don't care. I'd rather be with you." He shut off the water, dried her hands with a cloth and left the dirty dishes in the sink. He kept one hand around hers, the other reaching up to cup the side of her face. She flinched, probably afraid he would make a move now that she was single, but Damon didn't want to be Matt's replacement.

He wanted to be her everything.

"You look tired," he told her.

She whispered, another sob forming in her throat, "I'm so tired, Damon. Of everything."

He led her to his bed, moved the covers to the side and waited for her to get in. She settled on the pillow, her eyes drifting shut. "Damon?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you get over it, you know, move on?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask that question," he said, shaking his head.

"But you have dated a lot of girls before, so…how?" She looked so desperate, so in need of closure.

Damon hated asking the question as much as he hated already knowing the answer. "Did you love Matt?"

"I think so."

"Then I can't give you the answers you need, Elena. I may have been with a lot of girls, but I didn't love any of them." He looked away. "I mean, there was one,"— _You_ —"and that lasted all of one night."

Her gasp was soft, but still, he heard it. "And that one girl?" she asked. "How did you get over that?"

"As soon as it happens, I will let you know."

* * *

 **I can't believe there are almost 300 reviews for this story! I was very excited about this and thank you so much for all the support. I know some of you aren't happy with the development of the characters...But trust me, I like Delena a lot and Delena will be end game:)  
**

 **Have a wonderful day ahead:)**


	27. Chapter 27

The next morning, Damon ran his regular route. Twice. He didn't stop at the crossroads because the crossroads wouldn't lead him to Elena. It took her just over three minutes to fall fast asleep last night, and he watched her for a few minutes more. Then he thought about doing something really stupid: going through her phone. He didn't, of course. But he wanted to. Because the entire time she sat with him, told him about the breakup, he could tell she was holding back. He just didn't know what. But he trusted her, believed in her, in them, and he knew—in time—she would let him in.

Elena was still sleeping when Damon got home and because of his extra route, he didn't have time to make her breakfast like he wanted to. He sat on the edge of the bed and shook her. She flinched awake and gasped for air, her eyes widened.

"Hey," he tried to soothe. "It is okay. It is just me. Were you having a nightmare or something?"

It took Elena a few minutes to settle her breathing, gained focus, and when she did, her eyes met his "Hi."

"Hi."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I think…yeah. I must have been dreaming."

"I ran a few extra miles this morning, so I'm running late. I'm going to hit the shower and then go to the house, make sure Stefan is up and ready. Are you going to school today or you still need more time?"

"No," she said, her voice hoarse from sleep. "I should go. I have missed enough."

"All right." He kissed her forehead. "I will take you home so you can get what you need." Then he headed to the bathroom.

"Damon?" she called. "Thank you. You are a good friend."

I silence the music. "Change of plans."

Ten minutes later Damon left the kitchen and opened the front door. Elena was holding a protein shake in one hand, his school bag in the other. "I wasn't sure if you had time for breakfast."

He took the protein shake and thanked her.

Stefan thumped down the stairs. "I think I have a test first period so we can't be late. Oh, hey Elena," he murmured. Then he smirked at Damon and went back to her. "I was just thinking about you."

Damon smacked the back of his head and told Elena, "We are running late."

Elena's eyes widened. Then she said. "We can do this! We won't be late." She turned to Stefan. "Since you have the body of a girl, you think I could borrow some clothes?"

Stefan rolled his eyes but started up the stairs to his room, and Elena and Damon shouted at the same time, "Clean clothes!"

Damon chuckled, and she said, "I don't really need anything from home so we can skip that."

He nodded, then, "Crap. Laundry." He went through the house, found the dirty clothes and put on the wash. Then Elena appeared in Stefan's grey, long sleeve top from middle school. Damon looked at Stefan. He shrugged. "You said clean. It was all I had."

Twenty minutes later they got to high school and Damon quickly found a place to park. Stefan jumped out before he had even stopped the car completely, and once his brother had gone, Damon took a moment to take a breath.

"Can I do anything to help?" Elena asked, and he had almost forgotten she was sitting next to him. He looked from her worried eyes down to the jersey she was wearing. He smiled at her. "Nothing you can help. But thanks for offering."

"Why wasn't your dad home this morning?"

"Because Dad gets to work at five, does all the prep and paperwork before the phone starts ringing. Then he normally gets done by three, and he sorts out the dinner. It is a good compromise."

"You are the glue, Damon. Without you, that family would fall apart."

He looked out the windshield, grip the wheel tight. "Sometimes I wish Dad didn't get rid of Virginia. When I go off to college, it will just be Stefan in charge and…" he trailed off.

"Stefan will be able to look after you dad."

"I hope so." He forced a smile and motioned to the school. "We better go, we are going to be late."

The school play ran for another two nights, which meant their afternoons and evenings were spent at the school theatre. He trusted Mason enough to handle any set mishaps that might occur, but being there meant being with Elena, and he wouldn't give that up for anything. He stood beside her as she watched the play from the side of the stage, her eyes lost in wonder. "It looks so different," she whispered. "With the lights and the audience and the set and the—"

"Costumes," he cut in. "It's the costumes that bring it all together."

She smiled at that. "I did pretty good, huh?"

"No, Elena. You did great."

Her features softened as she continued to watch the play; Romeo was hiding in the bushes, watching Juliet on the balcony and he said, "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."

"I have absolutely no idea what they are saying," Damon whispered to her.

Elena glanced at him quickly, and then went back to the play, her hand squeezing the key pendant on the necklace Lillian left her. "He is describing Juliet, saying that she is the sun. That she can bring light to darkness, that the stars in the sky pale in comparison, that her eyes…" She sniffed back a sob. "He is just talking about love, Damon. About deep, irreversible love…"

In freshman year, Elena tried to start a knitting club that would meet at lunch one day a week and knit and talk about knitting. She was so excited about it; she posted flyers throughout the school. One time, she saw a bunch of girls making fun of the flyer and ripping it off the wall. In her bedroom that night, she told Damon she didn't care, but she did. And when no one showed up to her club, she tried so hard not to let it affect her. She kept telling him it was fine, but the cries and the tears were there, just under the surface. She would hold her breath, not risking that they might force their way out of her. Damon told her he would get them soda and went upstairs to her kitchen. When he came back down, she was sitting in her bed, looking ahead, tears streaking down her cheeks. There were no cries, no other sounds that matched those tears. Just tears. He gave her the soda and she wiped her cheeks, said thanks, and continued to stare ahead with silent tears.

That was how Elena spent the rest of the play, with silent tears and silent cries.

They didn't talk about what happened even though Elena knew he watched her cry, and when the play was over, he took her home. Her house was quiet, dark, and the only car in the driveway was hers. She looked to the house, then back to Damon. "Dad must be at Jules's," she said an, then sighed. "I have never slept at the house by myself before."

"But your dad has been staying at Jules's place for a while, right? And during winter break…"

"Yeah, but Matt…"

Damon frowned. _But Matt is not around, and I am, Elena._

Her phone vibrated in her pocket for the third time since they got in the car and she ignored it, just like the other times. She said, "I hate to ask—"

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

She shook her head. "Can you just come in while I get my things and maybe I can stay at yours again? I will sleep on the couch this time, and I will get up early and help in the morning and do your laundry and—"

"Elena, you don't have to do that. You know my house is your house. It always will be."

Damon sat on her bed while Elena shuffled around her room, filling a bag with more than enough clothes for just one night. She gathered stuff for school, her laptop, her toiletries, and he watched, confused, and her phone vibrated again, and again she ignored it, and he finally asked, "If there were something going on, you would tell me, right?"

Her hands froze midway through zipping up her bag. She looked up, met his gaze. "I just don't want to be alone right now, Damon. That's all."

Damon insisted she took the bed and this time, he didn't wait for her to fall asleep. He didn't watch her. Instead, he lay on the couch, counted the seconds, minutes, hours, and he listened to her cry. It didn't matter that he wanted to go to her, that he wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, because it wasn't about him, or them. He wasn't sure if there even was a 'them' anymore.

* * *

 **Is Elena hiding something from Damon? Will their relationship move forward since Matt is out of the equation?**

 **I hope my readers will enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much for all the support and kind reviews so far. I promise I will try my very best to write Delena stories - and make sure Delena is end game:)**

 **Go check out those amazing writers like scarlett2112, zaewrites, Rachel3003, VitsAsh, Salvatoreboys4ever etc. I can tell you I'm very happy to know them through this website:)**


	28. Chapter 28

Same play, different day. Mason slapped Damon's shoulder at the backstage and whispered, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Damon asked, watching Elena fixed the hem on Lady Capulet's dress.

"About Matt and Elena. Did they break up?"

"Rumours are flying," Stefan asked, standing next to Mason.

"What rumours?"

"She cheated on him," Mason said. "With you."

"That's bullshit!" Damon almost shouted, earning him a round of hushes plus a confused glare from Elena. He lowered his voice, added, "It is not true."

Mason said, "But you are driving her to and from school?"

"Yeah, so?"

"That's because she has slept in Damon's bed the past two nights," Stefan said.

Damon glared at his brother.

"So what's the game plan, Damon?"

"There is no game plan," Damon told them. "She literally just broke up with Matt so…"

"So what?" Mason whispered.

Damon looked to Stefan, hoping for a way out of the conversation, but his brother just shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. Come August you are not going to be around anyway."

In the car after the play, Elena told Damon that John had called, said he was at home and wanted to see her. He missed her, of course, and those many phone calls she had been dodging? She said they were all from him. And here Damon thought Matt was a creep who couldn't let go. But then maybe not such a creep because after dropping her at her house and making sure she got in okay, Damon went straight to his apartment, jumped into bed, and sniffed the pillow she had slept on. He did this for way too long, but he would probably do it for longer if Stefan wasn't knocking on his door. "Elena is on the phone," he said, eyeing Damon sideways, like he knew what Damon had been doing.

Damon took the phone from him, muted it. "Why is she calling your phone?"

"It is Elena," Stefan said, shrugging. "She probably doesn't know how to unblock your number."

Damon unmuted the phone and spoke into it, "My number still blocked?"

"Can you come over," she rushed out. "Please?"

Damon broke every traffic violation getting to Elena, which in Mystic Falls was speeding and ignoring one yield sign. She opened the basement door before he got a chance to knock and he could tell she was mad and he took a step back in case he was the one she was mad at, but he hadn't done anything wrong. Well, he had done a lot of things wrong and the majority had to do with her, but nothing recently.

"Matt went to see my dad today!" she whispered.

He whispered, too, "Why are we whispering?"

"Because my dad is upstairs and I don't want him to hear, idiot!"

"Okay." Damon took Elena by the shoulders, and she flinched at the touch. "Calm down," he said, moving her to the bed. "Sit."

She sat.

"I need a moment to wrap my head around what is happening right now because when you called, I thought something really bad was happening."

He took the phone from her hand, unblocked his number while she said, "This is really bad. Did you hear what I said?"

"My moment is not over yet!"

Elena rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She was frustrated. She looked so cute when she was frustrated. "Now?"

"Fine." He gave her back her phone.

"Matt went to see my dad today—"

"We have covered this."

"—And he offered him a job."

"What?" Now Damon needed to sit down. He sat on the couch opposite her bed and asked again, "What?"

"Matt is starting his own construction company. Dad said that Matt told him that his dad approved the business plan because they were wasting money using third-party companies, so soon, there is going to be a Donovan Construction and he wants my dad to oversee everything. He offered him double his current wage and a $25,000 transfer payment."

"What the hell is a transfer payment?"

"I don't know." She threw her hands in the air. "I guess to transfer from one job to another."

"What did your dad say? Did he say yes?"

"He said he would think about it but, Damon…that transfer payment is a year's tuition at University of Virginia, and that's all Dad can think about right now. He wants to take it. For me."

Damon dropped his head in his hands, finally understanding her frustration. "He can't take it, Elena. Anything to do with the Donovan is bad news."

"I know that. And I tried to tell him that. I even told him that I broke up with Matt—"

"He didn't know?"

"No!" This entire conversation was whispered which made it so much harder to communicate. "He asked when we broke up, and I just said recently but I didn't tell him I had to catch a bus back to Mystic Falls…"

"And what did he say?"

She sighed. "He said that I was cruel for breaking up with him after he spent the week taking care of me."

"You have to tell him, Elena."

"I can't."

"So John is going to take the job?"

"I don't know," she whined. "I can't believe this. I'm finally free of him, and he still finds ways to dig his claws into my life."

"What do you mean 'free of him'?"

"Nothing." She shook her head. "I'm just emotional."

"Maybe he is bluffing?"

"How?"

Damon got up, sat next to her on the bed. "What if he is making it all up? Like, maybe there is no business?"

She scoffed. "I wouldn't put it past him."

He got out his phone and called Zach

"What are you doing?" Elena asked the same time Zach answered.

"Did I wake you?" he asked Zach.

"It's 11:30, Damon. What do you want?"

It was 11:30! Damn, he must have been sniffing his pillow for longer than he thought. "Uncle Zach, I know you have to look up companies on some business register right? Do you still have access to it?"

"What the hell is this?"

"I need you to do me a favour."

"Right now?"

"Please, Uncle Zach."

Zach moaned and not like, in an annoyed way, in a…

"Holy crap, are you having sex right now with Krystal?"

"I will call you back."

Damon dropped the phone. "This is gross."

Elena was laughing now, silent but pure.

"It is not funny."

She flopped on her back, holding her ribs from laughing so hard. He leaned over her, take in all her features. He missed her smile, her laugh. He reached up, ran a finger across her forehead, and moved her bangs away from her eyes. He missed those eyes. "I miss your eyes, your smile." And without meaning to, he was running his thumb across her full lips and licking his own. "I want to kiss you, Elena."

"Damon," she whispered, her smile fading. "We can't."

"Why not? Are you planning on getting back together with Matt?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Her gaze fell between them. "It has to be different," she said, and Damon had no idea what that meant. "And it is too soon."

There was a brief pause before he said, "So a month from now, would you consider going out with me?"

Her smile was back. It was small, but it was there. "Define going out?"

"A date?"

"One date?"

"Ten. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred! Whatever it takes."

"In a month's time?"

"I can wait a month," he told her.

"I doubt it."

"Watch me," he announced. "I'm Felicity of waiting, and you are my Ben Covington."

Her eyes went wide, her smile wider. "Did you just Felicity me?"

He nodded, chuckled. "I'm that good, Elena Gilbert."

His phone rang and he blindly answered it, forgetting who it was and what they were calling about because Elena was still looking at him, smiling at him. Then Zach said, out of breath, "What am I searching for, Damon?"

"Donovan Construction."

He heard Zach typing the same time Elena reached up, combed her fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes. She shifted beneath him until her mouth was to his ear. "I miss you," she whispered, and Zach said, "Don't say that, Damon. It is so creepy."

Damon stifled his laugh and Elena did the same, falling onto her back again.

"Yeah, it's here," Zach said. "Registered business as of…four days ago."

"Damn."

"Why the urgency on this?"

He came up with a lie. "I just heard the rumours and wasn't sure if it was true. I'm worried about them running Dad's business to the ground."

Zach scoffed. "They can try, but your father has been at this for a long time, and he has built a ton of great relationships with loyal clients. Also, the entire world hates that family…besides Elena of course, but Matt has that charming, hot, golden boy thing going for—"

"They broke up," he cut in.

"So what's the game plan?"

He smiled down at Elena. "No game plan. I'm just going to do it right next time."

"There is a next time? Good on you. I have to go now."

"Bye. And thanks, Uncle Zach."

As soon as he hung up, he inhaled deeply, went back to the problem at hand. "What the hell are we going to do about your dad?"

"I don't know," she murmured.

"Zach said something about loyalty. You think that's going to come up when your dad makes a decision?"

She shook her head. "I really wish it would, Damon. But that extra salary alone plus the twenty-five grand, that's my entire four-year college tuition and that's all he can think about. He still feels so guilty about it all."

"I hate your mum," he said

"Me too."

"I should talk to Dad. See what he has to say."

She nodded. "I want to be there when you do it."

Damon looked back at her and smirked. "You want me to stay with you tonight?

"See? You already suck at waiting."

He didn't stay the night. Instead, he went home and he fell asleep sniffing his pillow. But he was smiling as well.

x x x

 _And I think, ultimately, that's what true love is, you know? To want to be someone's hero when they're faced with villains. To want to be the one who saves them. To be their Wonderwall_.

Damon's words replayed in Elena's mind, over and over, and she thought about the way he looked at her last night, the way his eyes met hers. Was that what he saw? Someone who needed a hero, needed saving? Because Matt saw her as that, and they confused his need to be those things as love, and she was attracted to him—hard and fast—and it got her here. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was making the same mistakes again, only this time with Damon. Damon—who was standing a few yards in front of her, his back turned, looking out over the school parking lot. His hair was in need of a cut and his hands were in his pockets, his triceps on display. He had changed over the past few months, physically and otherwise. His body had gotten harder, his demeanour the opposite.

She sneaked up behind him, kicked the back of his shoe and he turned swiftly, his eyes narrowed. Then he smiled. "Sneaky Elena," he said. "Sneaky Elena does sneaky things with…never mind. I didn't see your car pull in."

She joked, "You stalking me, Damon Salvatore?"

They began walking together, two of her steps for every one of his. He said, ignoring her comment, "Seriously, where is your car?"

"In my driveway. I caught the bus."

"Why? Something happen to it? I can check it out after school if you want."

"What do you know about cars?"

Damon laughed. "Not a lot, but knowing you, you probably left your lights on and drained the battery."

Elena nudged his side, and he feigned hurt. "There is nothing wrong with the car," she told him as he opened the door to the school for her. "I just feel weird driving it."

"Why?"

"Because of Matt."

"Because he got it for you?"

She nodded.

"That is dumb," he said.

She stopped at her locker and turned to him. "I'm sure I will get over it, it's just…" She didn't know what it was.

"Don't catch the bus anymore. I will pick you up, okay?"

"There is nothing wrong with the bus."

"And there is nothing wrong with my truck, either."

"Fine."

"Good!"

Suddenly they were twelve years old again.

Elena opened her locker, got her books for first period, and he said, "Did you speak to your dad any more about the whole Matt thing?"

She closed her locker, held the books to her chest. "Nah. He was gone by the time I got up."

"I called Dad this morning, said we needed to talk to him. You free after school?"

"Yep."

"Okay…Well, I will see you then."

"Okay," she said, but Damon didn't make a move to leave, and his locker was on the other end of the hall. "I should get to class."

"Yeah," he said, but he still didn't budge.

"Bye, Damon."

"Bye, Elena."

She waited for him to leave and when he didn't, she walked around him and towards her class. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was still following her, looking down at her shoes. She stopped abruptly, turned to him. "Damon?"

"Yeah?"

She pointed behind him. "Your locker is that way."

After school, in the Salvatore house, Damon and Elena waited for Giuseppe in the office. It might not seem like a big deal that they were in Giuseppe's office, but it was for Elena. She had walked past the room many a time and sometimes the door had even been open and she had looked inside, but it had been six years since she first stepped foot in this house and she never actually been in Giuseppe's office. It felt so forbidden, so grand, so—"What's with your face, Elena?"

She glanced at Damon. "I have never been in here before," she whispered, checking the door to make sure Giuseppe was coming. "I feel like I have been called to the principal's office." She used her jeans to wipe the sweat off her palms. "Doesn't it feel like that to you?"

Damon shook his head and chuckled "We normally get our punishments in the kitchen or living room so…"

"Wow…yeah…that's true," she whispered absentmindedly.

"I was kidding, Elena. What's going on with you?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "I think I'm nervous to tell your dad. What if he ends up hating me? I mean, let's be real, this is all about Matt getting back with me."

"With you or at you?" Damon said, and now he looked nervous.

Giuseppe entered the room, saving her from responding, and he sat his big frame in his big leather chair behind his big desk and smiled at them. "Hey kids, what's up?"

Elena was very nervous. _I'm about to ruin everything you have worked so hard to build, that's "what's up."_

"The Donovans are starting their own construction company in town," Damon said.

Giuseppe's eyebrows shot up, and he looked from Damon to Elena. Elena looked down at her hands. "I know this," he said. "But how do you and why did you feel the urgency to tell me?"

"You are not worried?" Damon asked.

"Should I be?"

"Sir Giuseppe," she started, and Damon chuckled.

"Sir Giuseppe? Really?"

"Shut up."

"Elena," Giuseppe said, "What is wrong?"

"Matt—my ex—"

"Your ex?" he asked. "I wasn't aware…"

Elena forced a smile. "Matt offered my dad a job."

"Right." Giuseppe nodded. "And let me guess, he threw in a bunch of perks?"

"Yes, sir."

Damon laughed. "What? No Sir Giuseppe?"

Elena kicked his leg.

Giuseppe sighed. "You know what the good thing about our town is, kids? And I say kids because that's what you are, and you really shouldn't be worrying about this stuff. The good thing about our town is that everyone knows everyone's business, and people like to talk about that business. I have known about this since the company was created five days ago."

"And you are not worried?" she asked.

"No."

"How can you be so confident?"

Giuseppe looked from Elena to Damon and back again. Then he leaned forward, lowered his voice. Elena found herself leaning into the conversation. "Because I had Wendy in the office call Pete Donovan, make out like she was from the newspaper and asked for an interview about his new venture into the construction trade and you know what Pete said? He said, 'What construction trade?'"

"So Pete doesn't know?" she mumbled.

Damon said, "So Matt lied to your dad?"

Giuseppe leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable. "I spoke to John today, we had a good laugh about it. He didn't mention anything about Matt offering him a job."

Elena sighed. "Maybe I made this a bigger deal than it is."

Giuseppe chuckled. "I love you both. Really, I do. But you are only this young once, and you have both been through so much in your eighteen years. And Damon, you carry more responsibilities than most your age. But this—worrying about me and the business—it is something I never want either of you to have to be burdened with. Do me a solid? Let loose now and then, enjoy life, get into a little trouble, you know?"

Damon smiled. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Giuseppe said. "Now that that's out of the way, what time is your meet next weekend?"

"What meet?" Elena asked him. She had all of Damon's track meets scheduled in her phone, and there was no meet next weekend. "I don't know about a meet."

"It is not a school one," Damon assured and then eyed his father, shook his head, just slightly.

"What meet?" she asked again.

"It's an independent meet in Richmond. Not school related," Giuseppe said.

"I want to go!" she said.

Giuseppe said, "He will probably beat his PB. He is so close."

She looked at Damon. "You are?" She hated that she didn't know this about him. Up until this school year, she had been to all his meets and knew all his times and now… "I didn't know."

"It's cool," Damon said. "But this meet—I mean, I will be competing in under 21s so I won't be competing against Matt, but he will probably be there so…"

"Oh."

Damon's gaze dropped, and Elena felt his disappointment before she saw it took over his body.

"So what?" she said, and she was already preparing the excuses in her head. "I still want to go."

Damon shrugged. "We will see," he said. He knew her too well.

"Stefan and I got to pick up something from the supermarket," Giuseppe said. "Elena, you staying for dinner? It is STT night!"

"What is STT?" she asked, looking between father and son.

"Stefan's Tasty Tacos!" Giuseppe said.

She cringed. "That sounds scary."

Giuseppe chuckled. "It's pancakes."

"Folded," Damon added.

"Because tacos," Giuseppe said.

"Right." she nodded.

"And I take him to the store to select and buy his filling."

"Candy," Damon said.

Her eyes lit up. "Pancakes filled with candy?"

Giuseppe said, "But the best part is the hit or miss salsa."

Damon faced her. "Stefan gets a bunch of candy and blends it together to make the sauce. As the name states, it is very hit or miss."

Giuseppe was standing now, pocketing his phone, keys, and wallet. "It is dessert for dinner, Elena. Right up your alley."

"And Damon actually eats this?" she asked Giuseppe.

"He gets this twitch in his left eye and his hands shake and he breaks out in a sweat."

"Probably pre-calculating the calories," she said with a giggle.

"He has one bite and then runs for two hours afterward."

Damon shook his head. "I don't like STT night," he murmured, and she laughed.

She told them that as much she would love to stay for STT night, she couldn't. She had to work. Damon gave her a ride home so she could get ready, and she walked to work for her 4 pm shift. At 9 pm, an hour before her shift ended, Damon showed up with a Ziploc bag in his hand. "Stefan didn't want you missing out on his tasty tacos." He slid it across the small opening of the ticket booth. The pancake is still warm as if he had just made it, and she was almost positive that Stefan had nothing to do with this. "And I thought I would give you a ride home."

"That's really nice, Damon." And it felt strange saying those words—as if she was trying hard to be super, extra polite, and she didn't know why. "But my shift doesn't end for another hour."

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

"But you always finish at nine on Thursdays."

"New roster. Sorry."

"I will come back then," he said quickly.

"Or you could stay," she said, just as fast. Truthfully, she could use the company. "You can hang out with me in here. It is quiet." She lifted her psychology textbook. "I'm just catching up on homework."

Within seconds, Damon was opening the side door and joining Elena in a small room made for one, not two, and now they were close, too close, and it was terrifying in all the best possible ways. He got out his phone and took a picture of the noticeboard on the wall. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting your new roster. I don't want you walking anywhere."

"Okay, Matt," she said, and soon as the name left her mouth, she mentally cut off her tongue. _Stupid. So stupid. I'm so stupid._

Damon's eyes drifted shut, his shoulders tense.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I don't know why I said that." She tried to find something to do so they could move on, and fast. She opened the bag and pulled out the pancake taco and a note fell out with it:

 _29 days, Elena Gilbert._

Elena found voice, croaked out Damon's name and glanced up at him. He looked from the note to her, his eyes searching. Then he leaned against the wall, his shoulders slumped. "I get that you might feel pressured—with what is going on between us—and I know you are still at that stage where you probably have a ton of mixed feelings, but I don't, Elena. I want to be with you. More than anything. And I'm willing to wait until you are ready. But if there is any chance that you are still in love with him, or that you are going to get back together with him without even giving me a chance, then I would rather know now. Save myself the disappointment."

There was a brief silence

"You are right," she said eventually, and his gaze dropped. "I do have a ton of mixed feelings, but none of them have to do with Matt. They don't even have to do with you. It is all about me and whether or not I'm strong enough to go through it all again. As far as getting back with Matt, that's never going to happen. Ever."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

A customer approached then, asked Damon for two tickets to the latest Marvel movie even though she was the one sitting behind the desk. "Sure." Damon stepped forward and pressed random buttons on the register. She cringed, and Damon said, "That will be fifteen dollars, sir."

The man looked at the admission sign, looked at Damon. "It should be twelve."

"Sorry. My math is bad."

The customer pointed to the register. "Isn't that what that's for?"

Damon glared at him, pressed more random buttons until the cash drawer flied open, and hit Damon in the junk. Elena giggled. She couldn't help it. The man gave him fifteen dollars and told him to keep the change. He earned it. Then she offered Damon her chair, and he sat, rested his head on her stomach. She stroked his hair, his ego. "Better?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not for another twenty-nine days."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I can't believe I have more than 300 reviews and I didn't really believe this story has mounted such a strong emotional reactions. These 2 young adults have made mistakes and they mess things up. Nobody is perfect and they are trying hard to learn through their mistakes. This is part of growing up, isn't it?**

 **Hope my readers will continue to enjoy this story as much as I do.**

 **Take care:)**


	29. Chapter 29

Over the next week, Damon spent more time with Elena than he did the entire time she was dating Matt. He drove them to and from school, and when he was available, he drove her to work. But he always picked her up, and he always showed up an hour early. He didn't make excuses as to why he was there, and Elena didn't ask, simply opened the side door for him. Now he knew how to work the register. When he dropped her home, he walked her to the door. She didn't invite him in, and he didn't ask. But the question was there, hanging in the air, another one of their little games, and one day he would win. He always won. And so it had been a week of conversation, a week of building back what they once had, a week of touching and teasing and mentally counting down the days. Today, it was twenty-two.

Elena returned to the booth with a bucket of popcorn and handed it to him. "You have got that look," she said.

Damon took the popcorn and sniffed it. "What look?"

"No butter, no salt," she said, "and that hungry I'm-going-to-eat-your-face look."

"Your face isn't what I would be eating should it come down to that," he told her.

"Damon!" she gasped.

He grinned at her as he sold two tickets to the couple who owned the comic book/sex toy shop. The husband winked. The wife said, "We have body paint in all flavours."

They left, and Elena was still staring at him with wide eyes and an even wider mouth and he looked away. The things he planned to do with that mouth.

She sat in a chair in the corner of the booth, and he stood behind the register, their regular routine. She said, "That meet in Richmond this weekend—you really think Matt is going to be there?"

He threw a handful of popcorn at her.

"Damon!" she squealed, already getting the brush and dustpan.

"Why do you care if he is going? Do you want to see him?"

"It depends."

He turned to her. "On what exactly?"

She scooped up the popcorn and emptied the dustpan in the trash. "On whether or not you can lend me $800…"

He switched the ticket booth sign to closed and shut the curtains. "You owe Matt money or something?"

"No," she said, sitting back down, her hands empty. "I want to pay his share of the car, and I don't have enough. I tried to get a credit card, but it won't be here in time. I will pay you back as soon as I get it."

"The car was a gift, Elena."

"And if it came from my dad alone, I would appreciate it, but you don't know Matt. There is an ulterior motive for everything. I just don't know what it is yet," she said.

"Okay." He nodded. "I will front you the cash, but don't pay me back with a fucking credit card. The interest rates on those things are ridiculously high. Just pay me back whenever. If you need more, it is no problem." He hated talking about Matt, and he hated the sudden awkwardness it brought, especially in such a tight space. He looked at the time. 9:15. He should leave, drive, clear his head, and come back when it was time. "I will be back at ten," he told her.

"Where are you going?"

"I forgot a thing…for my dad."

"Okay."

He left but came back at 10:02, and the first thing Elena said was, "What got into you?"

Damon sighed, hands on the wheel. "I just don't like talking about Matt, okay? And you can't be pissed that I get mad when you bring him up."

She didn't respond, and they spent the drive to her house in silence. He got out, walked her to the basement door. "I'm sorry," she said, unlocking the door and turning to him. "I just thought…" She trailed off, looked away.

"Thought what?"

Her eyes met his. "I thought I could talk to you about this, that you, out of everyone, would understand how important it is for me to cut ties with him once and for all so I can move on…especially considering you are the one I plan on moving on with."

Damon felt like a dick. He stepped forward, one hand on her waist, the other in her hair, pulling her to him. Then he leaned against the doorframe, one foot in her room. "You want me to stay?" he asked.

"Yes."

His heart skips a beat. But then she added, "But you shouldn't." She kissed his cheek, guided him back outside. "Twenty-two days," she told him.

Twenty-two days turned to twenty-one turned to twenty, which was also the day of the track meet in Richmond. Damon had to leave by 5 am to get there by 6 for registration. At 4:45, while he was packing his gear, his regular alarm went off at the same time there was a knock on his door. Elena was on the other side, her hair a mess, her eyes half closed, and he didn't even bother hiding his surprise. She had already given him her share of the cash she wanted him to hand over to Matt, as well as specific instructions: "Tell him it is for the car. That's all you have to say. Nothing more. Nothing less. I mean it, Damon. Nothing more!"

Damon opened the door wider. "4:45 looks good on you, Elena Gilbert."

"Go to hell and coffee," she mumbled.

"Counter."

She pushed him out of the way and shuffled to the kitchen, and Damon went back to packing. "What are you doing here?"

"Coffee."

He looked up at her. "You ran out of coffee?"

"Coffee first. Talk later."

"Right."

He finished packing and dropped his bag by the door.

4:53. He needed to get going, and she needed to tell him what was going on.

"Elena?" Damon slipped on his shoes by the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked again.

He should probably explain why nothing was making sense. Elena did not do well this early in the morning. That was an understatement. She didn't even know how to function. Last time he had a meet she had to get up this early for, he picked her up, and she had on two different pairs of shoes, her arm through the neck hole of her top and her jeans were inside out. After he helped her dress properly (the top half anyway—he left her to work out the whole jeans problem later) they got in the car, and she slept the entire drive, her head against the window and drool streaking down her chin. He found a parking spot, grabbed tissues from the glove box he kept. He cleaned her up, helped her walk to the stands and wrapped her up in a blanket he brought specifically for that purpose. It took forever for him to register for the event, and when he got back to her, she was asleep. It wasn't until the first starter pistol that she shot up and realized where she was. She sent him a text right away.

 _Omg!_

 _Did I miss it?_

 _I fell asleep!_

 _Did you win?_

He was sitting right next to her. She jumped when she realized. Then she looked down at her lap, at her inside-out jeans. She covered her face. He told her she could fix it under the blanket. She told him it wasn't just that—she had also forgotten to put on underwear. Then he really regretted not helping her with that earlier.

Now, she grabbed a thermos from the top cabinet. She poured her coffee, and then she walked past him, through the door, down the stairs and stood by his truck.

"You are coming with me?" he called out, still in his apartment.

She sipped the coffee. Shivered. "Hurry up! We are going to be late!"

Elena downed the entire thermos (the equivalent of four cups of coffee) in less than five minutes, so it was no real surprise that halfway through the drive, she was dancing in his truck with Justin Timberlake blasting. "I love Justin Timberlake!" she shouted, winding down her window, causing her cheeks to redden, her hair to whip around. She looked over at Damon, displayed her perfect teeth behind her perfect smile created by her perfect lips, and Damon wanted to punch Justin Timberlake in his perfect face.

He lowered the volume. "You want to hit up that craft store while we are there?"

She stopped dancing immediately, her eyes widened and on him. "Don't tease, Damon."

"I'm not," he said. "My heats and final should be done by midday so we will have time. Maybe grab food, too?"

She pouted. "I have to be at work by four, so we will see."

They got to the track, and Damon lined up to register while Elena sat in the stands, a blanket around her shoulders, yarn and knitting needles ready. Mason cut in line to get to Damon. "If you break your PB," he told Damon, following him around like a sick puppy, "party at my house. My parents are…I don't know where, but they are sure not home."

"Cool," Damon told him, but he was distracted by Elena, her hands frozen, her gaze locked on the familiar car pulling into the lot.

Matt Donovan's car.

"Is she here for you?" Mason asked.

Damon pointed to Matt's car. "Or him. I'm not sure."

"You can't worry about that shit today. You are here on a mission. Focus." And Mason was right, of course, and focusing on Matt was going to ruin that.

There were three heats in the Under 21s' hundred-meter sprint; each heat was an elimination round. Damon planned on flying through all of them, winning the final. He had done his research on the other competitors, and it was a given. But he was not here to win or to compete against them. He was here to compete against himself. Beating his PB would bring him one step closer to beating Matt Donovan's record. That was what he wanted. What he needed. And he only had three more official races until the season was over, which was why he was here. In a nonofficial school event that clocked official times.

He sat next to Elena and waited until it was time to start warming up. "You think you could ask Mason to sit with me when you can't?" she asked, looking towards the end of the registration line where Matt stood, watching her, him, them.

"Mason is running cross-country, so he will be on the track a while," Damon told her. "You want me to give him the money now, get it out of the way?"

"No," she said quickly. "He will want to talk, and I don't want to—not yet. Not until you are done. This is your day." She turned to him and smiled. "How are you feeling? Confident? Scared? You are going to kill it. I can feel it."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking over at Matt again. "You think he is going to give you a hard time?"

Elena cupped his face and forced him to get lost in those eyes. "I don't want you worrying about him, okay? I want you to worry about you and about that PB and about where you are going to take me in twenty days."

Damon smiled, he couldn't help it. He held her wrists and said, "I have it all planned out."

And it was true. He did.

"Can I do anything?"

He pushed his luck. "You could always give me an advance on that first-date kiss."

Elena rolled her eyes—instinct, but then bit down on her lip—contemplation. Then slowly, so slowly, she leaned forward, pressed her lips to his.

Two seconds.

Zero heartbeats.

"Did it help?" she asked.

"You have no idea."

Giuseppe showed up with Stefan and Sarah right before the first heat started. They sat with Elena, and Elena pointed Damon out, and Giuseppe smiled and waved. Sarah gave him a thumb up, and he returned it while Stefan checked out the program. He won the race. He won another short, light kiss from Elena.

Zach and Krystal arrived just before the second heat. Damon didn't know they were coming but he was happy they did, and he won that race, too. They cheered from the stands—his brother, his father, his relatives, his kind-of-now-but-definitely-soon-to-be girlfriend—all making him proud to be a Salvatore. He earned another kiss from Elena. When they actually did start dating, he was going to ask for backpay on all his previous winnings. One kiss for each win throughout his entire high school life.

He won the third heat, beat his PB. He didn't need to see the clock to know he had done it; his body had already told him. So instead of looking at the screen, he looked over at his family. Elena was the first to stand, her hand to her mouth. She said something to Giuseppe, and he hollered, jumped, scared everyone around him and swore, this feeling, this high, was greater than sex, pre-Elena, of course.

"Close, but not close enough," Matt smirked and Damon looked up at Elena, saw her hugging Sarah and pointing to the screen showing his times, and he looked at Matt and realization smacked him in the face. This was it for Matt. His life was defined by what he did on this track. And Damon? His life was sitting in the stands, watching him, cheering him on.

Damon faced Matt to return his smirk.

One second.

Two.

"It was never about you, dude. Not with me." Damon motioned to Elena sitting in the stands with his family. "And definitely not with her."

Matt shoved his chest, and he fell back a step, laughed at him. "That record is mine." It was a promise. A declaration. An oath.

He won the final, but he didn't break Matt's record. Not today. But he had three more races, and will, determination and anger were on his side. And like Stefan told him, emotion always would make someone win.

Damon collected the trophies and gave them to Stefan like he always did, and then spent the next hour in the craft store following Elena around like Mason did with him earlier—like a sick puppy.

When they were done, he and Elena met up with his family at the same diner they went to the first time they came here together. Elena ordered the same two desserts, and he ordered almost everything on the menu because he was starving and the hour walking around aimlessly at the store nearly killed him.

Halfway through the meal, Elena grabbed his arm, her eyes widened. "We forgot to give Matt the money!"

"What money?" Giuseppe asked.

Damon explained about the car situation but left out the part about lending her some cash.

"Just give me the cash and I will write a check," Giuseppe said. "I will send it to his mother and she can give it to him. Unless…" He looked at Elena. "Did you want to hand it to him in person?"

Elena shook her head. "Not at all."

* * *

 **Once again, I would like to thank all my readers for their support and kind reviews. I will try my best to write DE stories and knowing that my readers are there to support me, it makes me feel that I have to keep on pushing myself. You guys/gals are my motivation to improve:)  
**

 **Thank you for everything!**


	30. Chapter 30

It had been a long time since Damon had been to a party, and so he felt a little out of place with the drinking and the shouting and the dry humping in dark corners. Mason said it was going to be small, mellow, chill. It was the opposite of all those things, and it took him forever to find Mason sitting in his hot tub with a bunch of girls from the track team. "The man of the hour!" Mason shouted, and Damon had no idea who the people were that cheered for him, but he thanked them anyway.

"I thought you said it was going to be small? Just the team."

"It was," Mason yelled over the music. "I invited the team. They invited everyone else. Who cares?" He threw his arms out. "Enjoy it!"

Damon tried to enjoy it. Honestly, he did. But sometime between last summer and now, this scene became no longer his scene, and he would rather be sitting with Elena in the ticket booth not being paid to serve customers. He grabbed a beer from the cooler next to the hot tub and spent the next forty-three minutes wandering around, making awkward small talk. Then he found his way back out to Mason, still in the hot tub, making out with a girl he had never seen before. Or maybe he had, he didn't know, he stopped paying attention a long time ago. He waited for Mason to take a break so he could tell him he was leaving. But Mason didn't. Damon grabbed another beer, and he would wait another ten minutes before he left, with or without Mason's knowledge. He turned swiftly and bumped onto someone. "Oomph," she huffed.

"Sorry," Damon said, but all he could smell was coconuts and lime, and he looked again. "Elena?"

She smiled. "I was going to do that whole arms-around-you-cover-your-eyes-guess-who thing, and it was supposed to be cute." She rubbed her head, looked at him with her nose scrunched, and she didn't realize that without even trying, she was the cutest girl here with her tight black jeans, torn at the front, her tight grey top and leather jacket, and Damon wanted to fold her up, put her in his pocket and keep her for himself.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I got someone to cover my shift. I wanted to celebrate with you." She looked around. "I thought this was supposed to be small."

Damon hooked his finger in her belt loop and pulled until she stumbled forward, her eyes widened. He loved her like this—her body pressed into his and her breaths shallow. He dipped his head to speak into her ear. "It can be small…it can just be you and me and a bottle of whatever you want. This house has five rooms, and those rooms have locks."

She stepped back and bit her bottom lip. "Anything but vodka."

He took her hand after taking a bottle of whiskey from the cooler and lead her upstairs and into the first available room. It reeked of beer and sex and it was not at all romantic, but this wasn't a date, and really, it was Mason Lockwood's party so it was to be expected. Still, he opened a window, stripped the bed, and sat in the middle. After a moment, Elena followed his lead. He uncapped the bottle and handed it to her. "You trying to get me wasted, Salvatore?"

 _Yes._ "No."

She took a sip and passed it back. He declined.

"You not drinking with me?" she asked before taking another sip.

"Someone needs to be sober to hold your hair when you puke."

She spitted out the drink, liquid leaking out of her mouth, and he laughed as he wiped it away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "You are a hot mess already."

Mason walked into the room—and Damon realised he had forgotten to lock the door, and as soon as Mason saw Elena, he picked her up in a bear hug, despite he was dripping wet. She reached for Damon, and he pulled them apart, and now he was wet because she was holding onto him.

Mason looked between them. "Who's the better kisser? Me or him?"

"Go to hell," Damon snapped.

Now Rose was here with two of her friends, and the room was way too small for this. "What's up, homewrecker?" she said to Elena. Then threw her drink in Elena's face.

Damon moved Elena behind him and glared at Rose. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You need to leave," Mason told Rose. "Now!"

Rose didn't move, so Mason took her by the shoulders and forced her out of the room. "She will be out of the house in two minutes," he assured.

Damon turned to Elena. Her lips pursed, cheeks red. "Sorry."

She used his sweatshirt to wipe her face. "What the hell, Damon?"

"I have no idea. I haven't spoken to her since we broke up."

"And what exactly did you tell her when you broke up with her?" she asked, her breaths heavy, her anger spiking.

Damon lifted his chin. "The truth."

"Which is?"

"That I was into you!"

Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and then she sighed. "Well, I can't be mad at you now."

"Good. I don't want you to be."

She flopped down on the bed, took the bottle, and drank way more than she should. "Do you feel different?"

"About?"

"About your new PB. I'm so proud of you. You have worked so hard, and it's all paying off."

He smiled. "I still have to beat Matt—"

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Let's not talk about him. Not tonight. Not ever again."

Slowly, he pulled her hand away. "What do you want to talk about?"

Her grin widened. "How hot you look tonight."

"Are you hitting on me, Elena Gilbert?"

Elena took another long swig, her eyes staying on his. She nodded.

Damon smirked.

 _Game on, Elena._

An hour later, he was hauling her into a cab and telling the driver her address. While he didn't even get to start his second beer, she was slurring her words. Drunk Elena was Fun Elena. "Do you like?" she asked, throwing her feet over my legs. "The boots. Like?"

"Is she going to puke in my cab?" the driver asked, watching them in the rear-view mirror.

"Nah, she is good." He squeezed her thighs, and she giggled into his arm. "She is a tough one."

"I am tough!" Elena announced. "Sticks and stones and fists and bones, right?"

Damon patted her head and she purred before moving closer to him. He didn't count the seconds, the minutes it took to get to her house because whatever it was, it was not long enough. He paid the cab driver before getting her inside her house. It felt like forever to get her into her bedroom, to take off her boots, to wait for her to dress in the bathroom and to get her into her bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looked and smiled down at her. Then he traced a finger across her forehead, moved her bangs away from her eyes—eyes that drifted shut at his touch. Her head lolled to the side and she sighed, licked her lips. "I love it when you do that," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"It is as if you have to see me." Her eyes met his. "Sometimes when you look at me…" She grasped his wrist, placed his hand over her heart. "Do you feel it?" she asked, and he closed his eyes, focused on the touch.

Five seconds.

Eight heartbeats.

"You make my heart race, Damon."

His eyes snapped open. "Go on a date with me, Elena?"

"But—"

"But nothing. Don't you think we have waited long enough?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "I do."

"Tuesday?"

She nodded. "Tuesday."

He kissed her forehead. "You need anything before I go?

Elena sat up. "Don't you want to stay?"

"Of course I want to stay." _But I don't trust myself with you, Elena_. "But I shouldn't."

"Yeah, you should," she said, nodding, her eyes wild. "You should also take off your T-shirt."

Damon chuckled. "I can't."

"Why?" she whined. "Besides, it is like, one in the morning. You have to get up in less than four hours, and by the time you walk home it will be, like, 6 am."

"It will be ten minutes from now."

"But I want you to stay with me." She pouted, turned into a kid begging for candy. "Please?"

"Fine, but I'm not touching you."

"Good. I don't want you to touch me." She giggled, flopped back down on the bed. "But you have to be shirtless."

"Elena," he warned, slipping off his shoes and removing his belt.

She watched him strip down to his boxers, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her eyes hazy, from the alcohol or lust—he was not sure, but he was not willing to risk it, to regret it.

Damon got into bed, as far away from her as possible because the slightest touch could set him off. But Elena didn't get the hint, she moved closer, her head on his chest, her breath warming his skin. Her hand flattened on his stomach, moved lower. Lower. "Elena," he warned again.

She kissed his jaw, and he couldn't catch his breath, and she said, "I said I didn't want you touching me. I didn't say anything about not wanting to touch you." Her fingers moved, traced the outline of his stomach muscles and he clenched his fists at his sides, try not to get hard, but he didn't have control of his body. She kissed her way up his jaw to his ear. "I always get so turned on when I watch you race."

"Oh my God," he groaned. "We shouldn't—"

"Do you want me?" she cut in and her hand skimmed his erection, answering her question. "You want me, right?"

 _Damn, yes._ "No." Damon grasped her wrist, stopped her from moving. Then he shook his head, laughed at himself. "I can't believe I'm saying this."

"What?" she asked, the hurt in her voice unmistakable.

"As much as I want this, want you, I can't do it like this. When we do it again, I want to have earned it. I want it to mean everything. I don't want us to walk away with any regrets. From now on, I'm going to do it right."

x x x

Tuesday came.

Damon's stomach was in knots, and he felt like a wreck—more than the twelve-year-old version of him when he first met Elena. But there was so much more on the line now than there was then, and it needed to be perfect. He needed to be perfect. Elena deserved nothing less.

He texted Stefan when he got in his truck, told him he was on his way to get Elena.

Stefan responded: _All systems go, Captain._

He knocked on the front door instead of her bedroom. John answered, his arms crossed. "First official date…" John said. "Come in, son." He opened the door wider, motioned to the couch. Damon sat. "Elena, your date is here!" he called out.

John eyed Damon up and down. "I should probably do the whole setting-the-rules-for-dating-my-daughter thing, huh?"

"Um…" Damon looked around for Elena, but she was nowhere, and why the hell was he scared of a man whom he had known for so many years? "If you feel like you need to."

"10 pm curfew," John said, and Elena had never had a curfew, at least not with Damon. John added, "No drinking. No smoking. No sex."

Damon choked on his saliva.

John got him water and he drank the entire glass.

John kept going, "No touching below the waist. In fact, no touching at all. Not even to hold hands. No looking at her, even in her direction."

"John…"

"It's Sir to you, kid."

"Dad!" Elena gasped. "He is kidding," she said, and Damon stood up, turned to her direction.

"Wow," Damon breathed out. Elena was wearing a long sleeve dress that reaches the floor, hides her skin but shows off her curves. "You look—"

"If you say overdressed I'm going to punch you."

"—ridiculously hot."

John cleared his throat. "I think you mean beautiful, right?"

"Yes, sir, Sir Gilbert, sir."

John patted Damon's back. "You need condoms? I buy them in bulk so I can spare a few."

"Dad!"

"Your dad seems really happy."

"It is the Jules's mystique," she said, almost proudly. "He is so love-sick. It is sweet."

Damon settled a hand on her leg and started the drive back up to his house. When they entered the gates, she asked, "Did you forget something?"

"No. This is where we are having our date."

"Oh. Maybe I am overdressed."

"You are not overdressed. Are you disappointed?"

"Not at all."

He drove past his apartment, past the main house, and she sat higher, looked around. "We going to the cabin?"

"No."

"Then where are we going?"

He stopped the car and faced her. "Hi."

She smiled, her lips a light shade of red. "Hi."

"You really do look nice." He leaned forward, ran his nose along her neck. "And you smell incredible."

"It's the same perfume I wore on our first non-date," she told Damon, and he already knew that. He spent an entire day in the perfume section at the mall trying to find the same one. He didn't. But he could never get the scent out of his mind. "So where are we going?" she asked again.

Damon pulled back, hands on the wheel, and they started moving again. "It's a surprise."

They drove for another two minutes and thirty-eight seconds until Sarah came into view, holding a cardboard sign in the shape of an arrow that reads Valet. "They are here!" she shouted. "They are here! They are here!"

"What is going on?" Elena asked, her eyes as wide as her smile and he turned the car left, towards the lake, towards Stefan standing in a bright green suit.

Damon stopped the car next to him, and Stefan opened Elena's door, helped her out of the truck. "Good evening, Madam. Wow, you look hot."

"Quit it," Damon said, handing Stefan the keys.

"Where is my tip?" Stefan said at the same time Giuseppe said, standing in a suit behind a makeshift host stand Stefan stole from the props department in the drama room, "Table for two?"

Elena grasped Damon's arm to her chest, giggling with excitement. "What is happening right now?" She didn't realize that this was just the beginning, that he had been planning this for longer than he would like to admit.

"This way," Giuseppe said, taking two sheets of paper (menus) and leading them through the woods, towards the lake, the dock.

"Oh my God," Elena whispered, her feet glued to the ground. She looked out over the lake, and Damon looked at her. He found himself smiling, watching her take in the view of the fairy lights hanging above the dock, a single table and two chairs set up at the end. Sarah, Stefan and he had spent the entire afternoon since they got home from school setting it up. Luckily, it was a calm evening, no wind, no rain. Just the onset of the dipping of the sun behind the horizon making those eyes a fiery orange. "Damon, this is…"

"What our first date should have been a long time ago."

"Please to follow me," Giuseppe said.

Elena laughed, found her feet, and they followed Giuseppe to the table. Damon pulled out her seat before taking his spot opposite her.

"Here's to you, your meals for the evening, signora," Giuseppe said, setting the menu in front of her. As soon as he left, Elena took Damon's hand resting on the table. "Damon, this is all too much."

It was not enough. "Have you seen the menu?"

Her eyes dropped to the menu, then she gasped, and he had never been more in love with her than he was at this moment, with the sun setting, her dark hair in that braid he loved. She was here. With him. For him. Finally. And then she laughed and this time, reality didn't shift. Didn't change. Because reality was perfect. She was perfect. _We are going to be perfect, Elena. You will see._

"This is from Pino's?" she asked. Her favourite dishes from her favourite restaurant because he was that good. "But Pino's doesn't do take out. How did you…" She looked at Damon.

He shrugged. "I worked on the head chef's remodel over the summer. I called in a favour."

She offered a smile. So shy, so sweet, so Elena.

Sarah walked up the dock, a food tray each. "No!" Elena said through a giggle. "How much did you have to pay them to do this?"

Damon shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"Damon!" She showed him her hands. "I'm, like, shaking with excitement right now!"

They ate the food, and she groaned as she ate, and he chuckled. When she asked what was funny, he told her, "I just wish I was the one causing you to make those sounds."

She didn't skip a beat. "Me, too."

He choked on his food.

"What?" she said, shrugging. Casual Elena. "Don't think I forgot about Saturday night. You left me all frustrated and I had to, you know, take care of it myself."

"Oh my God." He covered his face, try to ignore the stirring in his pants. He should walk around to her side, bend her over the table and take her right here. Right now. And he would show her…she would never be able to get off on her own again.

"Dessert," Stefan said.

Damon jumped in his seat. When the hell did his brother get here?

Elena laughed at him, and he shook his head, glared at her. "You are bad," he mouthed.

She waited for Stefan to leave. "I can be bad," she said, and he loved Dirty Elena.

After the phenomenal dinner, Damon drove them to the movies, helped her out of the truck, and held her hand to the ticket booth he had spent many unpaid hours "working."

"Two please, Evan," He told the kid behind the counter, pushing over his cash through the window. By now, he knew almost everyone Elena worked with, and they knew him.

Evan pushed his cash back. "Employees get in for free."

"I'm not an employee."

Evans pointed to Elena. "But she is."

Damon sighed. "Look, this is kind of a do-over date because I messed up the first time we did this, and she paid for her ticket when I should have paid—"

"That's kind of a dick move," Evan told him.

Elena chimed in, "Technically, it wasn't a date."

"Still." Evan shrugged. "I didn't make you pay for your ticket on our first date."

"Seriously?" Damon looked between the two of them.

Elena rolled her eyes, put her hand on Damon's chest because she knew he was two seconds away from opening that side door and—"We got in for free, Evan," she said. "No one paid."

Damon grunted. "Just take my money, dude."

Evan too his money and kept the change for himself.

The same thing happened at the food counter. The exact same thing. Zane, the kid working the counter, also refused to take his money, also made a comment about him dating Elena.

 _What the hell, Elena?_

"You are mad?" Elena whispered, sitting next to him in the empty theatre, previews rolling.

Damon crossed his arms. "So what if I am?"

"Damon, you can't be mad that I have dated. I can be at school and spit in any direction, and it will land on some girl you have screwed. Not just dated."

"I just don't like the idea of you being with someone else."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"You are an idiot."

"What?"

"You are an idiot," she repeated.

"That's real nice, Elena."

She leaned closer; her whispered words sliced the air, sliced his heart. "I have had to sit around for years watching you date girl after girl after goddamn girl. I have listened to you talk about them, talk about having sex with them. And not once have I ever shown you how upsetting it was for me. I had to put up with it for years! You can deal with it for one night!" She reared back, but she didn't get far. Damon took her face in his hands and he kissed her, claimed her, and he hated when she was right and he was wrong and she was everything and he was nothing.

He swiped his tongue across hers, not wanting his frustration to show in the kiss, and he went slowly, gently, until he felt her relax beneath his touch, and her hands went to his hair and she was kissing away the anger, the pain, and it had been so long, too long, since they had kissed like this and he must have forced himself to forget what it felt like to be kissed by her because she was everything that was perfect in the world. The lights dimmed, and the movie played and they pulled apart, laughed quietly. They watched the movie with his arm around her and her hand on his stomach, and it was perfect, like it should have been years ago.

He took her home afterward, walked her to the front door. She was blushing when she turned to him, and he took both her hands in his.

"I had a really good time, Damon." Elena moved their hands behind her back, leaned up on her toes, kissed him once. "I like this," she said. "It is nice. You and me. Us."

 _Say it, Damon. Tell her you love her._ Damon swallowed, suddenly nervous.

She said, "I think I'm going to drive myself to school in the morning."

"Why?"

She motioned to her car. "Because it is just a car. It doesn't mean anything. Matt doesn't mean anything. Not anymore."

By the time he got back home and got into bed, his phone rang. Elena's name flashed on the screen.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said. "Remember that first week I spent with you, and then on Sunday night, I called and we spoke on the phone for hours?"

"I remember."

"I guess I'm just missing you already. Lame, right?"

"No. I miss you, too."

"Did you, um…" She took a breath. "It kind of seemed like you wanted to say something when you walked me to the door, but you held off."

"Yeah," Damon admitted, sighing. "I did."

"What did you want to say?"

He ran a hand through his hair, stared up at the ceiling. "You know what I wanted to say."

Elena was quiet for a beat before saying, "Why didn't you say it?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I guess it felt wrong to say it, but it definitely feels right to live it."

* * *

 **I love you - these 3 little words sound easy to say but it can be quite difficult to say it out I guess...Esp for 2 young adults who have messed up their relationship so badly.  
**

 **Once again, thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I hope you gals/guys will enjoy this chapter as well.**

 **Check out those amazing writers I have mentioned previously - they are very talented:)**


	31. Chapter 31

For the next couple of weeks, Damon and Elena dated…...without the actual dating part. They sneaked in a kiss now and then, but besides that they didn't have a lot of spare time. With Damon practicing four days a week instead of three and Elena working every possible shift she could get to earn the money she so adamantly needed to pay back, it didn't leave room for much else. Now Giuseppe had gone on a business trip for a week, leaving Damon in charge which meant he was sleeping in the main house and he was starting to lose his damn mind.

His family responsibilities had always been a problem with his previous girlfriends; he didn't spend enough time with them, he didn't take them on enough dates, he didn't answer every single phone call every five minutes. They didn't understand. But Elena did. "Maybe I should stay here for the week while your dad is gone. Help out when I can?"

"You are sweet," he told her, leaning on the kitchen counter flipping through one of his mother's old recipe books for something he could make for Stefan's bake sale tomorrow. "But I don't want you sleeping in the apartment by yourself, and I don't think Dad would let you sleep in here. Do we have cocoa powder?"

She checked the pantry. "Nope. What are you looking for?"

"Stefan has got a bake sale, and I need to make twenty-five of something."

"You are going to bake?"

"I'm going to try," he said as he flipped the pages. "And I need to do it soon because I have so much homework to do and I need to help Stefan with his as well."

Her nose scrunched. "Where is Stefan?"

"Basketball practice. But he should be back soon."

"Okay," she said, "How about I do the baking, you do your homework, and when the cookies are in the oven, I will help Stefan with his?"

"Cookies?"

"They are quick and easy and"—she closed the recipe book—"I don't need a recipe and you already have all the ingredients."

"Really?" Damon asked, his shoulders were suddenly rid of the weight they had been carrying. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

He hugged tight.

Twenty minutes later Damon was at the kitchen table drowning in textbooks and websites, and Elena had got the cookies in the oven. Stefan walked in and sniffed the air. "What is that? It is like heaven in my nostrils."

"Cookies," Elena told him. "And you can have one as soon as you finish your homework. Go get your books."

"No," he said.

She put her hand on her waist, raised an eyebrow. Intimidating Elena was really hot, Damon thought.

Stefan rolled his eyes and looked at Damon as he passed. "I liked her better when you weren't sleeping with her."

Damon sticked his foot out. Stefan tripped over it and landed on his side. "Watch your mouth."

"I'm just teasing," Stefan yelled before he left.

Damon smiled at Elena. "You are going to be a great mum someday."

She smiled back. "Well, I have your mum to thank for that."

It hurt his heart to know that she didn't have that, that the little time she spent with his mother was all she had for guidance. "Hey, did your mum contact you on your birthday?"

She laughed bitterly. "Did you expect her to?"

He shrugged. "I was hoping."

Her head tilted to the side and she watched Damon a moment, then she took the chair next to his. "We are basically strangers now, and I think it has been like that ever since I left but I didn't want to admit it. Sometimes I think about her, you know? And I wonder if she does the same with me. I get this romantic notion in my head that one day she will appear out of nowhere and realize she misses me. It is so pathetic."

"It is not," he said quickly, settling his hand on her knee. "She is still around, so it is always a possibility. With my mum, it was like…...one night I fell asleep, and the next morning she was gone."

"I'm sorry, Damon," Elena said. And Damon knew she was.

"I have this fear," he told her, and he didn't know if he should, but he did. "That one day, I'm going to wake up and you won't be here. You will be gone, just like she was. And I know it sounds stupid but losing her…...you saw what that did to me. You were there. And if anything ever happened to Stefan, my dad or to you…"

"Stop," she whispered, holding his head in her hands. "Nothing is going to happen."

Damon tilted his head to kiss her palm. "You know how I feel about you, right?"

"I know." She smiled. "Me too."

Once Stefan was down for the night, Damon called his father from his old bedroom. He caught him up on what had been going on, assured him that everything was okay. Giuseppe asked about the bake sale, and Damon told him Elena took care of it.

"Is she staying at the house while I'm gone?" Giuseppe asked.

"No. I know the rules."

Giuseppe chuckled. "I figured you would know that the rules don't apply to Elena."

"What do you mean?"

"Stefan sees her as a constant around the house. If it is going to help to have her around she can stay with you."

"But—"

"Only if you want her to."

"It would help so much."

"I trust you, Damon, and I trust her. Just don't give me a reason to regret that."

"Okay."

"I love you, son, and thank you."

"Love you, too, Dad."

The words were so simple, so rehearsed, and yet Damon couldn't even say it to the girl who held his heart.

He texted Elena and told her the news.

She sent him back a ton of emojis insinuating hand jobs and blowjobs and wild monkey sex. He wrote back: With my brother in the house?

She replied: Gross.

Five nights she had spent with them and having her around helped a lot. Damon didn't think the house had ever been this clean and organized, and they were eating more than just pizza and take out, and the Stefan asked her if she could move in permanently. John and Jules had checked in twice, probably hoping the Salvatore brothers hadn't killed her or scarred her for life, but Damon wasn't kidding when he told her she would be a good mother. The one problem would be getting her up in the mornings. It took her three coffees to function as a human.

Now, he and Elena were sitting on the dock, alone, for some much-deserved peace and quiet. Damon was lying on his back and she was resting on her elbow, leaning over him. She stroke his jaw, pouted down at him, waited for his anger to fade. That kid Evan from her work had been texting her, asking what was up. Last night, Damon went to pick her up and Evan was in the booth with her.

"You are being ridiculous, Damon!"

"Just tell me how far you guys went and I will stop," he grumbled, arms crossed.

Smiling, Elena said, "Trying not to laugh when you are like this is like trying to keep it together when a toddler yells, 'Fuck' in the middle of a busy store."

Next to them, their textbooks sat, opened but forgotten. "It is not funny, Elena." He gently pushed her hand away. "You are so secretive about it all. I don't like Secretive Elena!"

After a sigh, she settled her head on his shoulder. "We didn't even kiss, and just so you know, I hadn't done anything but kiss with any other guy before you."

"Not even a handy?"

"Oh my God." She giggled. "No."

"Dad is coming home tonight, so maybe I can have one of those," he tried to joke.

She sat up again and looked down at him. "Not if you keep talking about guys touching me."

"I didn't say anything about guys touching you. I said you touching them! Did he touch you? I will kill them dead, babe."

"Damon, stop."

"Did they? Just a little tit tap?"

"Enough!"

He almost asked her about how far she went with Matt, but he already knew the answer and it was making him want to jump in the lake and drown himself.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "You always get cranky when you are hungry."

Damon crossed his arms again. "A little," he admitted, then tugged on her shirt for her to lie down with him again. She was closer now, her arm and leg over him, her fingers tapping on his chest. He shifted her so she was on top of him, his legs spread, hers between them.

Her forearms were on his chest and she was stroking his jaw when she said, "Do you know how many times I dreamed about this?"

"About what?"

"Laying here with you. This close. Having you touch me the way you are, being able to look at you and not fear getting caught." She dipped her head, kissed him once. "Being able to kiss you."

"Same," he admitted. "Sometimes I see Uncle Zach and Krystal out here and imagine it was us."

Her lips twitched, curved up at the corners. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really." Then he looked around to make sure they were alone. "You want to fool around a little?"

Her eyes rolled, but her smile spread. "I guess."

Making out with Elena was equivalent to having sex with any other girl. Damon swore it. He was hard before her mouth met his and he wished they weren't out here, in the open, because he knew they were not getting much further but the kissing alone drove them both insane. She moved to straddle him, her hips jerking back and forth, rubbing against him in all the right ways. She whispered his name, her mouth still on his, and he reached up the front of her shirt and cupped her breasts. Her movements changed, thrusting and grinding, and he decided here and now to make her come because he had been craving those sounds. She bit down on his lip, and he knew she was close so he grabbed her, and lifted his hips higher so—"Are you sexing?" Stefan shouted, and Elena rolled off him so fast she almost fell off the dock and into the water.

Damon sat up, scanned their surroundings, and Saw Stefan hiding behind a tree. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted. "You know you are supposed to be studying in your room?"

Stefan broke out in a giggle and Elena was on her feet, picking up their books.

Stefan walked towards them with a grin on his face. "Are you sexing?"

"Shut up!" Damon snapped.

"What do her boobs feel like?" Stefan asked.

Damon groaned.

Elena gasped. "Stefan!"

"Like melons?" Stefan pushed.

"Stefan," Damon warned.

Stefan laughed harder before he ran away. "Like peaches!"

Damon looked over at Elena. "Just ignore him."

She shrugged and giggled. "He is Stefan."

He pulled her close to him. "Thank you,"

"For what?"

"For being here and making everything okay again."

She kissed him. Hard. Her hands going between them, her fingers playing with his belt while he sneaked under the band of her jeans, and he got lost in the moment, in Elena. Until Stefan cried, "You need to stop sexing with Elena, brother. I'm hungry. When can we get dinner?"

Elena laughed while Damon scowled at his brother.

"I will get dinner ready." She smiled at the Salvatore boys. "Give me a hand in the kitchen, Damon."

By the time Giuseppe got home, they were all seated at the kitchen table. They spent two hours at the kitchen table enjoying the meal made by Elena.

"I will clean the dishes," Damon said to Elena when they had finished dinner. "Wait for me in my place."

Elena was sitting on the couch watching TV when Damon returned to his place. "Hi."

"Hi." He moved behind the couch, shifted her hair off her shoulder and kissed her neck. "Meet me in the bedroom?"

When she got into bed, the first and only thing Damon did was cuddled her.

She fell asleep almost instantly, not used to living off of such little sleep.

Damon spent the next eighteen minutes watching her sleep and after realizing what he was doing, he tried to convince himself that he was not a creep. That it was completely normal to be doing what he was doing because she was his girlfriend and he did love her. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops… ...but he was not that creepy, and he was also a little afraid of heights. And where did that expression come from anyway? In what world was the area small enough that a message from a rooftop could be heard? Was there no wind around to carry the dude's voice? And he also needed to claim Elena. So he did their generation's version of rooftops and dame claims; he made them Facebook official.

 _Take that, Matt Donovan._

Damon pulled her close to him, a smile on his face.

x x x

Later in the week while Damon walked to his truck, Mason called out, running up to him.

"What's up?" Damon asked.

"We need to talk."

"I have to pick Elena up from work."

"It is quick," Mason said. "Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Nobody can find Matt on campus."

"What do you mean nobody can find him?"

Mason shrugged. "He hasn't been in his dorm for days. This is strange."

"And?"

"No one on the track team has seen him for a while. He has missed training the last couple days. That jerk is AWOL."

Damon kept this information from Elena when he picked her up from work which he didn't feel too bad about. It was not like she had asked, and when he came to think of it, her phone hadn't been blowing up the way it used to. At least not when he was around.

They went to her house to pick up her sewing machine to go with all the other crafting supplies she kept in his little apartment. And then they went back home where they had dinner together with Stefan and Giuseppe. After that they returned to his apartment. Elena said she wanted to shower, so she did that while he waited in the living room. Then her phone rang, and he knew he shouldn't look, shouldn't answer. But he did look, and he saw Matt's name flash on the screen, and he did answer because he wanted to know what the hell Matt still wanted and where the hell he was.

Damon didn't speak when the call connected, just listened to Matt breathe. "Elena?" Matt said, and Damon kept quiet. "Why haven't you answered any of my calls, baby?"

Baby? Seriously?

"I need to see you. Just once. Please, Elena." Matt exhaled into the phone while Damon held his breath, waiting for more. "Please, baby."

And Damon had had enough and he hung up because Matt was nothing but poison in her veins, and the sooner he was out of her system, the better off she would be. He went through her phone, through the missed calls and messages. If Matt had been messaging her, she must have been deleting them because there wasn't a single one there. But there were a lot of missed calls from him. Too many to count. She had probably tried to delete that evidence, too, but she didn't know how to. He deleted the call just made, the one that shows he picked up, and when Elena got out of the bathroom, her hair was still wet, he pretended like nothing happened. Because really, nothing did happen.

The next day at school Sarah and Stefan mentioned about the senior prom. Elena smiled at Damon from across the table in the cafeteria, and Damon wondered if she remembered the pact they made on her sixteenth birthday; that regardless of who they were to each other, they would go together. He didn't think either of them would have imagined that they would be where they were, her practically living in his apartment and making plans for their future while subconsciously dodging the fact that come August, Damon would be away and Elena had no real idea what she would be doing. "Tickets go on sale next Monday," Sarah said. She looked at Elena. "Are you excited about it?"

Elena nodded once, her gaze distant, and Damon knew she, too, was lost in the memory of fancy restaurants and lobster and bracelets and Wonderwalls.

* * *

 **What do you think? I thought about my senior prom before I went to college when I wrote this chapter - time flies...But some memories will never fade away.  
**

 **Anyway, thank you for all the support!**


	32. Chapter 32

Elena sat in her car on the Salvatore's driveway looking between the main house and Damon's apartment, and she had no idea how she got here. The sky was dark, the stars bright, and she had never felt so much silence. She wiped at her eyes when the porch light came on and she looked at the clock. It was 4:30 am. Giuseppe was leaving for work. Damn. She had no concept of time, no idea how long she had been sitting here. She tried to scoot down in her seat, hoping he would assume she was just spending the night with Damon. Her heart pounded, the tears came again. Knock knock on her window. "Elena?"

She winded down the window, did her best to smile.

"Why are you sitting in your car?" Giuseppe asked, concern dripping in his words. He looked at the apartment. "Does Damon know you are here?"

"No, sir." Elena shook her head. "I finished work late last night and I didn't want to go home and I just started driving, ended up here, and I know Damon has got so much going on with his meet this weekend and I didn't want to wake him, so I have just been here…..." A sob crept up her throat, forced its way out of her. "I'm sorry. I'm just going to go."

"No, sweetheart. Come inside. You shouldn't be driving right now."

She nodded, gathered her stuff, gathered herself.

The house was eerily silent, and she told Giuseppe that as she followed him to the kitchen. He switched on the coffee pot and turned to her. "It is peaceful, huh? But it is also kind of lonely when you are used to the general mayhem." He pointed to a chair at the kitchen table, and Elena took a seat, listened to the clock ticking, the tap leaking, the coffee pouring.

"I'm sorry. You were on your way to work and I…..."

Giuseppe set a cup of coffee in front of her, sipped on his as he sat in his usual chair at the head of the table. He covered her hand with his. "I don't live to work, Elena. I work to live, and my life is my family. That includes you, so talk to me."

There was so much Elena wanted to say. So much she wished she could tell him. She almost did. Almost. But then he squeezed her hand, looked at her the way Lillian did when she told her about isobel, and she couldn't do that to him. The truth would destroy him.

She wiped her eyes, tried to settle her emotions, gave him a small part of the reason why she had been sitting in his driveway the entire night. "When Damon goes to University of Virginia in August, will you need help with household chores? Maybe I could move into the apartment and—"

"Are you asking for a job?"

"I don't have any plans after graduation. I just thought, if you need it…"

He leaned back in his chair. "Damon mentioned something about you getting scholarships."

"Matt was my link to all that so…..." She trailed off, shrugged.

"Have you and Damon spoken about what you both want to happen when he goes to college?"

Elena dropped her gaze, felt the warmth of the mug seeped through her palms, her fingertips. "I don't expect Damon to—" The front door opened, cutting her off.

Damon rushed into the kitchen, his eyes widened when he saw her. "I saw your car in the driveway," he said. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Elena nodded. "I'm fine."

Giuseppe stood and kissed the top of her head. "Talk to him, sweetheart."

"Talk to me about what?"

Damon leaned on the kitchen counter in his apartment while Elena sat on the stool on the other side. For the past ten minutes, he had been patiently watching her stared at her coffee, waiting for her to form her thoughts into words, but nothing was coming and she needed time. "You should go for your run."

"No."

"Why?"

"Why? Because my girlfriend is at my house and she didn't even tell me she was here. Instead, she is talking to my dad and telling him things she should be telling me, and it is clear she has been crying. So no, babe, I'm not going for a run. I'm not leaving your side."

The truth formed on the tip of her tongue, but her fear pushed it away. "I was just asking him about a job."

"A job?"

Elena nodded.

"Elena, I don't need that money. My mother left me some for when I turned eighteen and—"

"It is not about the money."

Damon was silent a moment. Then: "Have you even slept?"

"No."

He sighed. "Can you please look at me?"

She swallowed, thick, and worked up the courage to face him.

"Is it about us? Are you not happy with us?"

The desperation in his voice shattered her. "No. I'm happy." She hated this. "So happy. But I think that's part of the problem. That happiness can't last forever."

"You are not even letting it begin."

"In a couple months, you will be gone. And I don't expect you to stay with me when you leave."

His hand slammed on the counter. "What the hell, Elena!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "It is like you are trying to find reasons to end this! If you don't want me, just say that!"

Elena jumped in her seat and she covered her ears. "Don't yell at me!"

Damon was quick to get to her, his arms around her head. "I'm sorry," he said, stroking her hair. "I didn't mean to lose it like that."

She grasped onto his shirt, sobbed into his chest. "I don't know what I'm doing, Damon," she cried, looking up at him. "You have so much going for you and you are so determined, and your goals and dreams are this close to becoming real, and I'm so lost."

"Elena..." he whispered.

She pushed him away. "And you are going to college and going to live this amazing life and I will be here, doing nothing."

Those eyes gave Damon everything. One could line up a thousand pairs of eyes, and he would be able to tell which were Elena's. He could even tell exactly what she was feeling when she was looking into them. If she was turned on, angry, confused, elated, lying.

There was more to what she was telling him, he knew that much. But after seeing her reaction when he yelled, he didn't want to push her. He wanted to heal her. And so he took her hand, led her to the couch. "What did Dad tell you when you told him all this?"

She wiped her cheeks, looked down at her lap. "He told me to speak to you."

"He is a smart man," Damon said.

She sniffed once.

"When my parents graduated from university, Dad didn't know what he wanted to do. He just knew he wanted to marry my mum. So they got married, and he got a job working construction and for the first couple years, they saved every penny they could. They bought their first property when they were twenty-four. It was this shitty, tiny apartment just outside Mystic Falls. But they took the knowledge he had learned through work, fixed it up, and by the time they were twenty-five, they had flipped their first property, turned a profit. My parents took that profit, did it again and again. Then my mum got pregnant with me."

Her smile was a slow build, a beautiful image.

"Eventually, they settled into a house—not this one, but it was bigger than the apartments they were flipping. My mother came from money, and my grandfather was the one who invested in Salvatore Construction after I was born. They moved here, got a fresh start."

She nodded, those eyes confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because for years, it has been something I have wanted to do."

"Okay?"

Damon shifted her until she was sitting sideways on his lap, and he kept her close, stroke her leg. "Elena, Dad and I found this well-priced, two-bedroom apartment that is falling apart. It is just outside University of Virginia. My dad is in negotiations with the sellers, and if we get it, I want to spend the summer fixing it up, and I want us both to live there."

Elena's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"I know that you might be confused about what you are going to do next year, but I'm not. When I say that I have been thinking about this for years, I mean all of it, babe. Ever since you said you wanted to go to University of Virginia, I have been planning this. Even if we weren't together, I still wanted us to be together." He wiped her tears with his thumb. "You have been such a huge part of my life, and I didn't want college to change that. I know that might sound selfish, and it is, but I didn't want to let you go. And now…I hate sleeping in a bed without you in it. I hate waking up and not having you next to me. I'm in this, Elena, and I'm crazy in love with you."

Her mouth met his, her lips salty with her tears. "I love you so much, Damon."

"So quit questioning it. Let's just be in love."

"Okay," she whispered, a smile tugging on her lips.

She stood up, took his hand and led Damon to the bedroom. She closed the door behind them, making the room as dark as it was outside. Her hand skimmed his arm, over his shoulder, until she was pulling him down by his neck, her lips finding his in the darkness. He savoured her touch, her kiss, and then she was moving again, until he was lying on the bed and she was on top of him, straddling his hips, and he knew what she wanted, he wanted it just as bad. She removed his T-shirt, kissed down his neck to his collarbone. "This is my favourite part of you," she said. "Whenever you run, the sweat builds here, turns me on so bad."

His hips jerked up, pushing into her. "I want a light on," he told her. "I want to see you."

Elena shifted, and Damon sat up with her, helped her take off her jacket, her top. Then she took his hand, placed it over the bare skin of her chest, just over her heart. "You don't need to see, baby. You just need to feel."

He nuzzled her neck, kissed the skin right below her ear and she whispered his name. He tried to respond, but all that came out was a groan. Her nose nudged his chin and he blindly cupped her face, and a moment later, her soft, wet lips were on his. He closed his eyes and brought her hips closer. She moaned, her lips parting, and he tasted her tongue, touched her bare back. He lied back down, flipped them over until she was on her back and his hand on her stomach. A few inches lower and he would be where he wanted to be.

She ran her fingers through his hair while he lowered his hands to the band of her jeans, sliding a finger side to side. She squirmed beneath him, her fingers clenching, tugging his hair, pulling him away from her neck. She kissed him again, soft and slow, and then hard and fast, driving him insane with want, with need. Then she grasped his wrist, guided his hand so he was moving lower while she unzipped her fly. Now he was under her jeans, above her panties. She was so hot down here, and he tapped his fingers against her. She whispered, "Don't tease me, baby."

Damon was quick to move the fabric aside and slid a finger inside her. "The way you touch me," she said. "I wish I could erase all other touch, feel nothing but you."

There was something almost magical about getting naked and exploring a person's body with one hands and mouth and sense alone without being able to see the person. Fingers tap and tease and one would feel every curve, every dip. Heard every gasp, egging one on to keep doing what one was doing, tasting and swirling and flicking and sucking, and she squirmed and she gasped and she moaned and she cried out in pleasure, her thighs pressed against his ears, convulsing with her orgasm, and if that was magical, then her mouth around his male hardness was beyond a miracle because he had never had an out-of-body experience until now.

Damon closed his eyes, let her take him to the edge and then paused. Tease. Edge. Pause. Tease.

"Elena," he warned. "I need to come, baby."

Elena slide up his body, lithe and perfect, her nipples grazing his chest. She kissed him like she was born to do nothing else, and when they finally broke apart, gasping for air, she said, "Be gentle with me."

Damon didn't ask why, just reached into the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a condom while she sat up. They applied it together, in the dark, and it was the most erotic thing in the world, having both their hands on his male hardness preparing for what was to come. He kissed between her breasts, his arms around her waist while she shifted into position, her hand going between them to guide him.

He had to see her. Needed to. He reached for the lamp, but Elena was quick to take his hands and link their fingers, pressing them into the pillow beside his head. She was moving him in and out of her, and he was wrong. She wasn't made to kiss him. She was made for this. To be on top of him, straddling him, and she collapsed slightly, her weight on her elbows and those sounds, those sounds, and he tried to think of something else that would stop him from coming, and the only thing that came to mind was World of Warcraft. Her hair brushed against his face while he leaned forward, found her nipple with his mouth and she moaned while he did everything he could not to break his hands free from her grasp and gripped her waist and pounded into her.

"I'm so close," she panted. "So close."

And she's moving, faster and faster, deeper and deeper and deeper…

"Christ," she breathed.

Damon couldn't think anymore. But he needed to concentrate. World of Warcraft…

"Oh my god!"

He sensed the exact moment her orgasm hit her, and he finally allowed himself the same pleasure. Then she collapsed on top of him, her entire body soaked with sweat. A few seconds later, she broke out in a giggle and rolled off of him. "Why did you shout World of Warcraft?"

His entire body burst into flames. "Shut up! I did not!"

"You totally did," she managed to say through her laughing fit.

"I did not!"

"You did!"

His feet were heavy, legs wobbly when he sat on the edge of the bed and "cleaned up." He warned her that he was going to switch the lamp on so her eyes could adjust and when the light was on, he turned to her. The blanket was pulled up to her nose and her hair was a mess, strands caught on the sweat on her brow, and she was flushed, not from embarrassment but exertion. He kissed the top of her head. "You are kind of amazing, you know?"

She smiled, sweet and innocent and a complete contrast to how she was a few minutes ago.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm good."

"Good is the enemy of great," he threw back at her.

Her smile widened. "I'm beyond great, Damon. I'm in love."

* * *

 **The declaration, finally!**

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I'm so glad my readers are enjoying this story as much as I do.**

 **Lots of hugs and love to my wonderful friends whom I get to know through this website and also my readers:)**


	33. Chapter 33

Damon and Elena rode to senior prom in a limo paid for by Giuseppe and chosen by Damon. It was the best one the company had: fancy leather seats, sunroof, DVD player, etc. He had picked it out because he had planned on taking Elena on a little cruise beforehand but Stefan and Sarah were with them because they were dating seniors. Needless to say, the cruise in the limo became unachievable. That, and the fact that Elena was late to get ready because she was head of the prom decorating committee and had to be there until the last possible second to make sure everything was perfect. He tried telling her that no one paid attention to the decorations, that people went, some loser/winner spiked the punch, one danced to maybe two songs, then one bailed to the after-party.

"But it is my first and last dance, and I want to make sure it is perfect," she said, and she said it in such a way that Damon felt like an asshole for not caring about the decorations and that he had been to every single dance, each with a different date, but honestly? He would have taken Elena to all of them had he thought he was good enough. Still, guilt was a dangerous emotion. It caused one to do stupid things like staying up until 2:30 am with one's girlfriend browsing through internet looking through different versions of the same centrepieces. But he loved her. Really, he did. He loved her so much he even spent hours at the mall with her making sure his tie matched the exact shade of her dress. Periwinkle, by the way, was the colour of her dress. Damon had never even heard the word periwinkle before but Elena swore it was a thing, and on her, periwinkle was more than a shade, more than a dress. It was a statement. One that says, "Hey, boys, look at what I have been hiding all these years!" and he already wanted to punch every single guy who realized what they had been missing.

"Do you know who is going to be prom queen and king?" Sarah asked Elena.

Elena shook her head. "No idea."

"Who cares?" Stefan said.

The dance was held at a ballroom attached to a hotel, the same ballroom all dances were held because small-town living was rad. By the time they got there, Mason was already been kicked out for being drunk.

He whistled when Elena stepped out of the limo. "Damon, who is this hot piece of ass?"

Damon glared at him.

Elena rolled her eyes, physically dragged Damon away and up the seven steps towards the dance. They handed their tickets over to Miss Brown at the door and then entered a winter wonderland. Damon knew what the theme was, of course, and he had seen the room before, but now, with the lights and the music and the people and the dancing, he couldn't deny the fact that Elena had done a good job.

"Wow, Babe. You nailed it."

Elena smiled. "You think?"

"Trust me. I have been to plenty of these, remember? This is the best one yet."

"Good," she said, "I wanted to go off with a bang."

When Lillian was alive, music was a constant in the house. Anything from jazz to hip hop, rock to reggae. She would listen to old records and whatever was on the radio, and when a song came on that she loved, she would dance. Damon was ten years old the last time she made him dance. The song was Charlene by Anthony Hamilton, one of her favourites. She smiled down at him, her eyes tired, and placed one of his hands on her waist, the other in hers. She swayed him from side to side, the music taking her on a journey He knew nothing about. Halfway through the song, he was sick of holding her hand, sick of two-stepping around the room. He told her dancing was lame. She shook her head. "One day, Damon, you are going to fall in love with a girl, like your father fell in love with me, and you will understand."

"Understand what?" he asked.

"That it is not about the dance. It is about moving, as one, with a person whose heart beats to the same rhythm as yours. It is about love, about life."

Damon never really understood what she meant. Not until he had Elena in his arms, her head on his chest, her heart in his hands. One song ended and another started, and it was perfect. Wonderwall by Oasis filled the room, and Elena smiled, and her smile made him do the same.

"Do you know what this song is?" he asked.

"It was the one your dad and I danced to on my seventeen birthday."

"It was also my parents' wedding song."

Her eyes widened and her gasp was soft.

They didn't speak for the rest of the song, just moved together. As one.

"You ever feel like this is as good as it gets?" she said, looking up at Damon with those eyes.

He gave her a memory, a secret. "You know, I still remember the exact moment I fell in love with you. I mean, I always thought that I loved you, but I wasn't sure what that love meant." He kissed her once and went on, "We were fifteen, it was a Saturday, and I had just come second in a race. I was in the worst mood even though you spent the majority of that morning trying to cheer me up. I sat on the couch in your room, and you were on your bed, your legs crossed, and knitting gloves for Stefan. They were special gloves—"

"The ones with the removable tip on the pointer finger so he could still play games on the computer," she remembered out loud.

Damon bit his lip, nodded once. "You looked up at something on the television and laughed, and I remember staring at you, thinking that you had the power to change my mood with a single sound. Your laugh."

"Damon," she breathed, tears threatening to fall.

"You went back to knitting…sixteen clicks of your needles, eight seconds, and my heart flipped. And I just knew. I knew I had fallen in love for the first time. For the last time."

He tasted her tears on her lips when she kissed him, her arms around his neck, holding him tight. But then she pulled away, and when he opened his eyes, he saw it was not by choice. Matt Donovan was here, and his hand was on her shoulder, and he looked horrible—as if he hadn't slept for days, and going by what Elena had told Damon, he probably hadn't. He was shaking, twitching. "Elena, I need to talk to you. Just one minute, please."

Damon separated them, stepped in front of her. "What the hell are you doing? Get out!" But Matt didn't see him; his scattered gaze was on Elena.

"Please, Elena," Matt begged, his hands clasped in front of him.

Elena stepped beside Damon. "What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

Matt looked around. "Not here."

Damon's rage boiled. "Go away!"

"Damn you!" Matt shouted, and then looked at Elena. "I just want one goddamn minute! After everything we were, you can't even give me that?"

He was insane if he thought Damon was going to let Elena go anywhere with him. "You need to leave!"

"Damon." Elena's hand was on his arm, forcing him to face her. "I will be back in—"

"No, Elena!"

"Please."

Damon looked away. "Fine. Go."

She blew out a breath, looked between both men. Then she looked at Damon again. "Please don't leave." As if Damon would. He had let her go, and he stood in the middle of the dance floor, his hands in his pockets, watching his girl left with another guy.

Matt had asked for one minute with her.

It had now been two.

Three…

And on the eighteenth second of the third minute, Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

One would see it on the news. Read about it on the Internet. But one would never think it would happen to you.

School shootings would never happen in Mystic Falls.

In their school.

Everyone ran, everyone searched.

And all Damon could think were Elena, Stefan and Sarah.

He started shouting their names, shoving people out of the way.

"Elena! Stefan! Sarah!"

Everyone was screaming and crying.

His eyes darted everywhere all at once, his pulse thumped in his ears.

"Elena! Stefan! Sarah!"

It was a sea of people rushing out the door, teachers screaming, shouting to stay calm.

There was no calm.

Not here.

Not now.

Damon ran one direction, then another, back again.

Always looking.

"Elena! Stefan! Sarah!"

Someone shoved him from behind, their scream ringing in his ears.

"Damon!" Stefan shouted, running towards him.

Damon checked his body, head to toe, head to toe. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

He shoved Damon's hands away. "I'm okay. Where is Sarah?"

"I don't know!" Damon shouted. "Elena! Sarah!"

People ran again, back into the room, into Damon. "Damon!" Sarah cried, and Damon exhaled, relieved. Sarah fell to the floor and got trampled. Damon ran to her, shoved everyone out of the way, and pulled her towards him. "Damon!" she cried, hugging Damon.

Her tears were fat, falling fast. She was so scared.

This shouldn't be happening.

"What's going on?" She was crying so hard Damon could barely make out the words.

"Are you okay?" Stefan yelled. "Are you hurt?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Elena!" Damon was on his toes, searching the sea of scared bodies. He looked to Stefan, fear squeezing his throat shut. "Where the hell is Elena?"

People lined the back wall, sitting, hugging, crying.

He searched for periwinkle, searched for Elena. "Elena!"

"Salvatore! Get against the wall!" Miss Brown yelled. "Now!"

He turned to Stefan. "Take Sarah and go!"

"No!"

"Stefan, go!"

"Damon!" someone shouted, but it was not the voice Damon wanted to hear. Mason charged towards him, his body slamming into Damon. He grasped Damon's shoulders.

"Elena!" Damon roared.

"Damon!" Mason was pushing him back, his body blocking him. "Elena…" he huffed.

Damon could no longer see, blinded by fear. "Where the hell is she?"

Mason wiped his eyes against his arm. "She is outside, Damon….you shouldn't go out—"

Damon pushed him away and ran for the door.

Two seconds.

Seven steps.

His heart stopped.

He dropped to his knees.

"Elena!"

There was no more periwinkle purple, just crimson red.

Blood was everywhere.

Those eyes, those eyes, they ruined him.

He picked her up off the ground.

Blood was everywhere.

Her legs, her torso, her mouth.

Blood everywhere.

"No! Elena! Please, please, please."

She coughed blood.

Once.

Twice.

Then Damon heard, "I'm sorry, Elena! I didn't want this. I love you. Damn!"

Crimson red behind Damon's eyes.

Rage.

Murder.

Matt was pacing the sidewalk, his hands behind his head, gun still in his grasp.

Damon didn't know how it happened.

How he rushed towards Matt.

How he knocked him to the ground.

Rage.

How he punched his face, over and over.

Kicked him, over and over.

Murder.

Mason grabbed Damon's arms, pulling him back.

Matt didn't move.

Not an inch.

Damon ran back to Elena

Sweet, naive, innocent Elena.

He dropped to his knees again. "Elena!"

Blood bubbled from her lips, tears form in her eyes. A single word: "Help."

He picked up her hand, searched for a pulse.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Those eyes, those eyes.

Were gone.

* * *

 **Sorry, this chapter is a bit dramatic...I know some of you will be upset:( Will Elena survive? What will happen to Matt and Damon?  
**

 **Once again, thank you for all the support and kind reviews. I really appreciate them:) I don't think I have the motivation to keep on writing Delena stories if I don't have the support from my friends and readers.**


	34. Chapter 34

In seven minutes, Damon and Elena went from moving, as one, under snowflakes made of silk and twinkling lights and disco balls to hanging on, as one, lost in a sea of red and blue lights.

In the back of the ambulance, he held her hand, he pleaded, he bargained for her life—for her to stay with him.

He was told to move, to let some guy in a uniform holding a needle do his job, and so he sat in the corner and he cowered and he begged and he broke down. He cried.

The driver spoke into the radio, said he had a "female, eighteen to twenty, multiple GSWs, pulse weak, eta: six minutes."

Six minutes.

It was too long, they were going too slow, and there was blood everywhere, blood everywhere, on his hands, on his face, on his tux, on his shirt, on his periwinkle tie to go with her dress, and the uniformed guy was in his face, his voice the only calm in an ocean of riptides. "Talk to her. Keep her with us, son."

Damon stood, hunched, his body not made to fit in such small spaces, and he took Elena's hand and he choked. He looked up at the man meant to save lives. "What do I say?"

The man answered, "Give her a reason to stay."

Damon looked down at her face, a face he had loved before love had a meaning, and he ignored the blood trickling from her mouth, down her cheek, to her neck. He told her, "You stepped out of your dad's car in your denim shorts and bright red flip-flops and T-shirt with a picture of a cat that said Look at meow. I'm getting pay purr." He wiped his eyes with his bloodstained hands and blinked through the pain. "I thought it was hilarious, but I didn't want to laugh because I didn't want you to think I was laughing at you. When Mum introduced us all, you stood there and looked around and I could see you didn't know what to say. When Mum said my name and when you looked at me, I wanted to know everything about you." He pushed through a sob cracking his open heart. "Our eyes locked and I think, in a way, they have never left. It has been years, Elena, and I have never stopped looking at you, looking to you, and I don't want to stop. Not now. Not ever. And I need to see your eyes and I need to hear your laugh and I need you. I need to love you. And I need to love you right."

It took seven minutes to get to the hospital. Not six. He went from twinkling lights and disco balls to a sea of red and blue to sterile, bright white, waiting room lights. He was not allowed to go farther, and he saved what fight he had left for Elena's life, not for those who were trying to save her life. He sat by the huge swinging doors they rushed her through and grasped his hair. It was so quiet now. Wonderwall changed to gunshots changed to screams changed to sirens, and now he was here and it was too quiet. Another gurney came through the doors and it was suddenly loud and it was Matt Donovan and Damon stood and he kicked at the gurney like he kicked at his head. He lost his shoe, but he didn't do any damage and Matt was rushed behind the swinging doors, his life treated as if its value held the same as Elena's. It didn't. And then John arrived.

John was wild, frantic, just like Damon was on the inside. On the outside, he tried to stay calm. For John. "What happened, Damon?"

Damon stood.

He puked.

On John's clothes.

On his own clothes

Blood everywhere.

Puke everywhere.

And then he leaned against the wall and he cried.

Stefan and Mason were there next. They tried to pull Damon away from his tears and his vomit and tried to force him to sit on the chairs, but he chose the floor while John paced.

John made a phone call.

Giuseppe arrived. Uncle Zach and Krystal came after that.

"I thought it was you," Giuseppe said and then he cried.

Damon cried.

John cried.

Sarah and Krystal cried.

The quiet that was too quiet was now too loud because a woman just entered, wailing for her son. "Where is my son? Matt?" She was ushered through the doors Damon was forbidden from entering, and his heart throbbed and his head throbbed and everything throbbed and it hurt. It hurt so much, and he cried harder.

Giuseppe held him tight. "It is okay."

It was not. No one knew what was happening. John was asking questions no one had answers to. And then blue and red lights from outside filtered into the room and two cops marched in, their footsteps heavy, their focus on Damon and he knew why they were here. He had been waiting. They said his name.

"What's going on, Damon?" Giuseppe was alarmed.

"It is okay," he whispered.

"I will go wherever you need," he whispered.

He followed the cops and walked with his head down to the backseat of the police cruiser, ignoring the cries and questions from his family.

Jules was at the police station, in uniform, on duty. She stood just inside the door as if she knew, as if she had been waiting for him.

"Damon," she said, her voice hoarse. Then she looked at the two officers who escorted him in here. "I will do the processing."

It was all a blur.

She spoke, but Damon barely heard her.

"Assault."

"Remand."

"Court."

"Bail."

"Hearing."

These were all words she said and words Damon didn't care about.

She asked to take his prints. He let her. He had no choice.

She asked to take his statement.

He told her he couldn't. Not now.

She understood.

Damon looked down at her desk, at the scattered paperwork and half-filled coffee cup. Jules had recently been promoted to senior deputy, he remembered Elena telling him. There was a framed picture of her and John and a smaller one of her and Elena stuck to the edge of her computer monitor. He stared at the picture, at the life in Elena's eyes, and he forced himself to breathe. He didn't have control of his body, of his emotions. He was dull, weak, and waiting. The tears welled again, but he managed to keep it down. "Have you heard anything?" he asked.

Jules cleared her throat. "Four gunshot wounds. Three to her legs. One to her abdomen. The paramedics on the scene said she was lucky to be alive when they got there. She had lost a lot of blood." She choked on a sob but maintained her professionalism. "Elena is strong. She will fight this. She has you to come back to."

"Where is she now?"

"They are operating on her. It could be hours until we hear anything."

"And Matt?"

Rage.

Murder.

She sighed. "He will be fine, Damon. He will survive."

Finally, his eyes locked on hers. "Do you believe in fate, Jules?"

She forced a smile but didn't give him an answer.

"My mother believed so boldly in fate, and if this is my fate, I will wear it. But this can't be Elena's fate because the world isn't ready to lose her." He glanced back at the picture of Elena. "Then again, the world wasn't ready to lose my mum, either.

The blood on his clothes was still damp, but the blood on his hands was not.

At some point between the hospital and this waiting cell at the police station, it managed to become nothing more than red flakes on his palms and fingers. He could feel it on his face, too, mixing with the tears now soaked into his skin. He wondered how the others in the cell saw him—barely a man, huddled in the corner of the room, bloodstained tux, and a missing shoe—and he imagined, for a moment, the thoughts and stories that ran through their minds.

Maybe he was in a wreck, drunk.

Maybe he was in a fight, drunk.

Maybe he tried to kill someone.

He tried not to think about it for too long, the repercussions of his actions beyond his mental capacity. So he stared down at the floor in front of him, the sole of his single bloody shoe print leading to where he sat, like a road map to his demise, and he thought about the only thing that made sense.

He thought about her.

And he wondered if he would ever get the image, the feel, of her limp body in his arms out of his system.

Sixteen clicks.

Eight seconds.

That was how long it took him to realize he had been in love with her all these years.

Eight, life-changing seconds.

It was also the exact length of time it took to lose her.

x x x

"Damon!"

It was Stefan.

Damon found the strength to stand up and see what was happening. Part of a wall blocked his view so he couldn't see everything, but he could see his brother.

According to the clock opposite the cell, he had only been locked in for five minutes. And the processing took less than an hour. There shouldn't be any news on Elena yet. Unless…he couldn't even process unless.

"Jules!" Stefan shouted, and fear squeezed Damon's insides.

A gruff, male voice tries to settle his brother. "You boy can't be here."

"Jules! Jules!" Stefan repeated, his voice carrying through the air.

A moment later, Jules walked past the cell, her eyes narrowed, first at Damon, then Stefan. She asked, once behind the front desk, "What's going on here?"

Stefan didn't respond. He just poked her shoulder. She stepped back, surprised. Then he yelled, "Whore!"

Two officers appeared from nowhere and started to kick him out, but Stefan said, "That's assaulting a member of the police, right? Shouldn't I be detained or something?" His voice broke, his tone desperate. "Right, Jules?"

And through the haze, through the fog, it all became clear. Damon's head dropped forward, smacked against the bars, and he did it again and again because he didn't want his brother here and he didn't want Stefan to see him. Not now. Not like this.

"I got it," Jules told the officers. She grabbed Stefan by the arms and led him to the cell where Damon let go of the bars and stepped back, waiting for them to slide open and for his brother to join him.

"I'm off for the rest of the night to be with John at the hospital. As soon as we know anything…" Jules trailed off.

The bars clanked close, echoed off the walls, and Damon didn't know how long he stood there, looking down at the floor, shame and fear continuing to build inside him. He looked at his hands, at the blood, and without a word, he sat back down in the same spot, drowning in the same fear. Stefan sat to his right.

"What are you doing here?" Damon spoke finally.

"I'm your brother, Damon," Stefan said. "I'm here for you."

In a sprint, every millisecond counted. In the holding cell, those milliseconds felt like eons. Every single time Damon closed his eyes he saw those eyes, those tears, and they haunted him.

He sat with his back against the wall, his knees up, his head between them and he cried silent tears and lived in silent thoughts and then Stefan said, "This is my fault."

Damon lifted his gaze, looked over at him, but Stefan was staring ahead, his eyes glazed.

"I was outside drinking with Mason, and we saw Elena and Matt walk out. We hid in the bushes like idiots so we could spy. We thought they were screwing around behind your back, and we wanted proof. But he was just begging her to take him back, and he kept apologizing. Something was seriously wrong with him. It was like he was possessed." Stefan wiped his eyes on his forearm, his shoulders shaking. Damon tried to breathe, but he couldn't.

"She told him she was done, that she wanted nothing to do with him and she started to go back in, but then he yelled 'Don't walk away from me!'" Stefan fell apart, his words as broken as himself. "And then he lifted the gun…Damon…" He faced Damon, sob after sob wrecking him. "I didn't know what to do and I got so scared and I just ran away. I didn't even check on her. I'm so sorry."

Damon held his brother's face in his hands and locked his eyes on his. "This is not your fault."

Stefan shook his head, his tears falling. "I will send the video to Jules. I will do whatever I can to help."

"What video?"

"I told you," Stefan said. "I wanted proof."

Five hours and forty-six minutes after Jules left, she returned, along with Giuseppe. Damon and Stefan stood, greeted them at the bars. Giuseppe said, "She is out of surgery."

"She is going to be okay, right?"

"Eventually."

Every muscle in Damon's body seemed to ease, and he griped the bars in desperation. "Can I get out now? Can I see her?"

Damon saw the remorse in their eyes when they looked away, just for a moment.

"The bail hearing is set for Monday, Damon. I have requested that you stay here until then. That way you are close to me, close to family," Jules said.

He stayed in the cell, alone, the eons ticking by one after the other. Giuseppe returned to give him some clothes. He told his father not to come back, that he didn't want to see anyone until the bail hearing.

When Monday morning came, Damon changed into a clean suit Giuseppe brought him and breathed in fresh air for the first time in what felt like forever. He sat in the only courtroom in town, in front of the only judge in town, next to a lawyer he had never met before. Giuseppe had a lawyer for the business, but this one specialized in crime. Because that was what he was now. A criminal. All he wanted was for them to announce bail, for Giuseppe to hopefully pay it, and for him to spend the rest of the day, the rest of his life, next to Elena.

Judge Nelson, a woman who should have retired years ago, read a sheet of paper out loud explaining his assault charges, and he looked over at Giuseppe and Jules sitting behind him and for a second, just one, he was scared for himself. He didn't assault just anybody. He wanted to kill Matt Donovan, whose family had plenty of money to get exactly what they wanted. He was going to prison for a long time, too long to ask Elena to wait for him.

Judge Nelson set bail and gave him the conditions of his release: A restraining order had been granted from the Donovans, meaning he couldn't be within a hundred yards of Matt.

Then Jules stood. "If I may, Your Honour."

Judge Nelson smiled at her. "Jules, I have known you since before you could walk." Why so formal?"

Jules cleared her throat, squared her shoulders. "I would like to request a temporary lift on the RO, limited to the hospital, with police supervision."

Judge Nelson's grey eyebrows bunched, and she switched her gaze from Jules to Damon and back again. She called for a ten-minute recess and requested both Damon and Jules to her "chambers." Damon knew nothing of what was happening, and he thought he was getting out. He needed to get out. He needed to see Elena.

He and Jules didn't have time to discuss anything before they were sitting in leather chairs inside a room with Judge Nelson. It smelled like old lady perfume, Band-Aids and hotel room Bibles.

"You want to tell me what is going on?" Judge Nelson asked, sitting down opposite them.

Jules didn't skip a beat. "Matt Donovan is sitting in a hospital room four doors down from Elena Gilbert."

And all of a sudden Damon went from knowing nothing to knowing too much.

Jules added, "With the restraining order in place, Damon—I mean Mr Salvatore—can't visit her. I'm simply requesting—"

Judge Nelson cut in. "You have a personal relationship with Miss Gilbert, correct?"

"She is my boyfriend's daughter."

"And you think she deserves special privileges?"

"Your Honour." Damon didn't recognise his own voice. "May I speak?"

Judge Nelson nodded. "If it is quick. I have to be back in session soon."

His heart pounded, his breaths uneven. He pushed through. "Elena—we have been best friends since we were twelve, and I have loved her every day since then. Right now…" A sob forced its way up his throat, out his mouth. "Right now, I'm lost. I have no idea what is going to happen to me. I just know that I need to see her. And if I'm feeling this, I can't even imagine how she is feeling. We have been side by side through everything, madam. And I understand that you have to do your job, that you have to abide by the laws set to protect, but no one was protecting her when Matt decided to unload four bullets into her body."

Jules's hand landed on Damon's shoulder and he heard her cries, louder than his.

"You asked if we think Elena deserves special privileges as if there is a logical answer to that question. She fell in love with the wrong guy in the wrong way, and I let her down. I let him lead her away from me, and I was supposed to protect her. To save her." To be her Wonderwall. "And I need to see her so she knows she is loved, that she didn't deserve this, and selfishly, I need to tell her I'm sorry so she can forgive me. Because I need her forgiveness, madam. More than I need my next breath."

Judge Nelson cancelled her sessions for the rest of the day, parking fines and petty disputes, and they rode to the hospital in a police cruiser while Giuseppe followed in his car. The judge asked Damon about Elena, about the type of person she was, and about their relationship. He answered each one as best he could, but his mind was both numb and frantic, and there were too many words, words, words racing through his head, so many different ways to say he was sorry.

His steps faltered and his gut twisted when they entered the hospital, walked down the halls, and he saw a police officer guarding Matt's room as if he was the one who needed the protection. But Judge Nelson raised her hand and said, "He is with me." And the officer sat back down to read his paper.

It took fifteen steps to pass three rooms until he was standing in front of Elena's door. He was lost. He looked at Jules and Giuseppe.

"Go on," Giuseppe said. "You need each other."

There were no words to describe the slaughtering of Damon's heart when he saw Elena in the bed, her right leg bandaged, elevated, tubes and machines hooked up to her body.

"She is out," John said, sitting in the dark corner of the room. He looked tired and Damon forced himself forward, step after step, until he was standing next to her, looking down, and he had never missed those eyes as much as he missed them now, hidden behind her closed lids.

Giuseppe pulled up a chair, set it behind Damon as if he knew his son was struggling to stand, to see. Damon sat down and took her hand in his.

John said "I'm not sure if she is sleeping or if the pain meds…" He sighed. He looked tired and broken. "Talk to her, Damon. She has been asking for you."

It was hard to pull words from one's heart when there were four other people standing in the room, watching, waiting.

"Hey, baby. It is Damon."

How stupid did that sound?

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to come see you. I have been…don't worry where I have been. I just…" Damon dropped his head on her hand and he had forgotten the words, the need for her forgiveness, and he cried.

Giuseppe grabbed his shoulder and squatted down next to him. "It is okay," he said.

But it was not.

Damon was crying harder, tears and snot and drool and bandages and hospitals and court dates and criminal charges and all he had ever wanted was coconuts, lime and Elena.

"It is not okay, Dad!" he shouted, and Giuseppe nodded. "It is not okay. We were meant to have the rest of our lives, and it wasn't supposed to start like this. We were supposed to go to college together and get married and have kids and we are eighteen and this shouldn't be happening! I'm going to prison and she is never going to heal from this and what am I supposed to do, Dad? Tell me!" He pleaded. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do?"

"Damon," Giuseppe said, the same time Elena's hand twitched in Damon's and he stood quickly, looked down at her, at those eyes.

"Damon," she whispered, her eyes fighting to stay open.

Damon wiped at his cheeks, trying to hide his pain.

A single tear fell from her eyes, down her temple and into her hair. "I hurt, Damon."

He scanned her body. No crimson red. No blood everywhere. "Where, baby? Where do you hurt?"

Her eyes drifted shut again. "I hurt everywhere."

* * *

 **I felt so sad when I finished writing this chapter:( Fortunately, Elena survived. But what will happen to Matt and Damon? There is a fine line between love and hate, isn't it? Or maybe Matt has never loved Elena...**

 **Anyway, I'm glad my readers are enjoying this Delena story. I promise this will be a happy ending for Delena:) Thank you for everything!**


	35. Chapter 35

Elena fell asleep.

Judge Nelson said she had some paperwork to get back to in her office. She also told Damon that she was "quite fond" of him. He told her he "appreciated" what she had done.

He went home, pretended like he didn't care that everyone was fussing over him.

Krystal offered to cook dinner, and he told her he appreciated her, too.

Stefan came to his bedroom and hugged him tight. He told Damon he loved him and he was glad his brother wasn't the one shot.

Both of them fell asleep in his bed and Damon woke the next morning to a phone call from Judge Nelson. There were detectives asking questions, and she wanted to meet him at her new "headquarters." He told her he couldn't right now, that he needed to see Elena. She said her new "headquarters" was Elena's room at the hospital.

It was a media circus around the hospital. The Donovans were rich and powerful and their son was in a hospital bed "fighting for his life."

According to what Mason told him, the Donovans had been very tight-lipped about it all. They refused to speak, to answer questions, they just hoped justice would be served. They wanted Damon locked up, and right now, that was their priority. They didn't about their son, about what might happen to him because he tried to kill someone. Or that that someone actually did fight for her life. No. They cared about justice.

Judge Nelson was waiting for Damon and Giuseppe just outside the hospital doors. She had lifted the restraining order on the condition that she be with Damon. Damon asked her why she was so invested in this. She said she was not invested in "this" so much as she was invested in "them"…he and Elena. She being the only judge in town, she would be working both cases, Elena's case against Matt and his case against Damon.

Damon guessed that was one good thing about small towns, everything was personal. And for the first time in days, he felt a win on his side. Because there were some things the Donovan's money couldn't buy, and Judge Nelson had them: common sense and common decency.

Elena was awake and half sitting up when he entered her room. She smiled weakly when she saw him and Damon couldn't help it, he smiled back, raced over to her.

"Hi," she whispered.

He rested his forehead against hers, unable to hold back his cries. "Are you okay?"

She grasped his wrist, choked on a sob. "I have missed you."

"I have missed you, too, baby. And I love you. So much."

She pulled back, her tear-filled eyes ripping his heart in two. "What is going to happen to us?"

"Nothing," Damon assured her. "I won't let anything happen to us."

"We are going to get through this, right?"

"Of course."

"I'm sorry, Damon. I shouldn't have left with him," she said, her cries hitching her words.

He kissed her lips, tasted her tears. "Stop it. This isn't your fault. I love you. You love me. That's all that matters."

She chewed on her lip and pressed a button on the remote that moved the top half of the bed back down to laying position. Then she scooted over, just slightly, and patted the bed. "One minute?"

He didn't care that there were other people in the room, the judge, his father, her father, their lawyers, two random detectives. The media could be in here and it still wouldn't stop him from getting in the bed with her and cupping her face and kissing her eyes and her cheeks and her forehead and her nose and her lips and all the things he loved about her.

"Damon," she whispered, and he pulled back. She pouted. "You went to jail?"

"No, baby." He shook his head. "I was in a holding cell. That's all."

"Are you going to jail?" She sounded so sad, so naive, so innocent. So Elena.

Damon didn't answer. Instead, he closed his eyes, rubbed his nose along hers.

"If you do," she said, struggling to breathe through her pain. "I'm going with you."

He kissed her again.

 _Tell her I have missed her. Again._

 _Tell her I love her. Again._

"I heard you," she said. "What you said in the ambulance, I heard it all. I remember that day clearly."

He smiled. "It was my favourite day."

"It was my favourite day, too."

"I love you, Elena," he told her, his smile widening.

"I love you, too."

It was true. They were so in love. And nothing and no one could take that love from them. Even the detective who cleared his throat and introduced himself as Detective Keels and his partner as Detective Mayfield.

The questions started off easy and got harder from there until Damon was sitting up in the bed, his hand linked with Elena's, and he replayed the moment in his mind: Was Matt Donovan in possession of the weapon when you began your assault?

The truth was simple. "Yes."

"At what point was he no longer in possession?" Keels asked the questions, Mayfield took the notes.

"Um…I guess when I lunged at him and brought him down."

"Do you know where the weapon landed?"

Damon hated that he was calling it a weapon as if it was somehow less deadly. It was a gun. He wished Keels had just say it.

"Under a car."

"How far was the car, Damon?"

Damon looked at Giuseppe and his lawyer. "I can't be sure, sir."

Mayfield paused on taking notes and looked up, spoke for the first time. "You run track, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

"So you have to have some idea of distance. Give me a ballpark, something to work with."

"I don't know. Like, ten, maybe fifteen feet."

Mayfield went back to taking notes. Keels said, "So not within reaching distance?"

"I guess not."

"And you continued your assault on Mr Donovan even after the weapon had left his possession and was thrown under a car, out of reach. Correct?"

His heart thumped, his mind shut down. "I—"

His lawyer sighed. "I guess self-defence is out of the question now."

Damn.

Damn.

Keels ended his questions there, for now, and moved on to Elena. Same standard questions with her.

 _What was her relationship with Matt Donovan?_

 _How long have they known each other?_

 _Were they intimate?_

And Damon started to wonder if maybe these detectives were on the Donovan's payroll. Then they asked something that had Elena sitting up, joining him. Where was she the first week of May? She was in Mystic Falls, in a hotel. But she was taking too long to answer, and her eyes were everywhere at once. She wouldn't make eye contact with Keels and she wouldn't look at Damon, even when Damon squeezed her hand. He whispered, "You were in Mystic Falls, remember? In a hotel. You needed to get away for a while."

Her throat bobbed with her swallow, but she still didn't speak.

Mayfield flipped his notepad, page after page, as if they had all the time in the world. Damon wished they would leave. He wished they could go back to fifteen minutes ago when one minute was the greatest thing in the world.

Mayfield found what he was looking for among his notes. "So you weren't in the hospital… Richmond Medical Centre in Richmond? Is that what you are saying?"

Her eyes widened.

Mayfield continued, "It says here you were complaining about stomach pains. Two broken ribs, swelling around your jaw, large bruise on your back? That doesn't sound like stomach pains to me."

John sat higher. A deer in headlights. "Elena. What is he saying?"

Elena shook her head. "What do you want me to say?" she whispered.

Keels was blunt. "The truth, Miss Gilbert."

Elena's cry was quiet, almost silent. "I think you can guess, detectives."

"We have to hear it from you."

"You want me to tell you that my boyfriend used me as a punching bag?"

Rage.

White. Hot. Rage.

"Which boyfriend?" Keels asked. "Matt or Damon—"

"No!" she almost shouted. "Damon would never…God, what is wrong with you two? Why are you even here when he is down the hall!" Her volume rose with each word. "You want the truth. Fine! I tried to break up with Matt the previous week. We were in his dorm room, and he wouldn't let me leave. He locked me in there and said we could "talk it out" but we didn't talk. He yelled, hit, slapped, punched. And then he had sex with me as if it was going to make everything okay."

Damon covered his mouth to stop the puke because it was right there, like his anger, ready to explode.

"And it wasn't the first time this happened. It had been going on for months, and I'm sorry," she cried, and she let go of Damon's hand and continued, "I'm sorry, Dad. I couldn't tell you." She looked at Damon. "I couldn't tell either of you because I thought he would do something to hurt you and I couldn't…"

She cried into her hands.

John cried into his shirt.

And Damon was too angry to cry.

Keels looked at Damon and spoke to Elena. "If that happened, Miss Gilbert, then why is Matt Donovan's signature on the hospital bill?"

"It's not," she sobbed. "It's not Matt's. It's his mum's."

Damon was on his feet before he could think, before the consequences came to him, and he marched for the door with one thing on his mind: he was going to finish Matt Donovan.

"Damon!" Judge Nelson yelled at the same time Giuseppe grabbed his arms to keep him in place. The judge was in front of him now, her eyes red and raw. "Don't do this, Damon. Don't make me question my investments."

x x x

"Your boyfriend has got quite the temper, doesn't he?" Keels asked, watching Damon storm out of the room.

Elena glared at him, eyes widened in shock. The Donovans had requested detectives from a different precinct because they felt like Jules's connection would somehow sway the investigation. She didn't tell Damon. She knew how he felt about the Donovans. "You have no idea, do you?" she croaked.

Keels crossed his arms, widened his stance like he was readying himself for a confrontation. "No idea about what, Miss Gilbert?"

"Damon isn't the threat here, sir. Damon's reaction is because he has a heart, not a temper. You heard everything I said, right?"

They didn't respond.

"Because you are both looking at us like you don't know us, like you don't understand us. We are just kids, detectives. We didn't plan for this to happen. You think Damon has got a temper? Imagine if I were your mother or your wife, your sister"—she glanced at her father—"your daughter. And then try to fathom how you would react if you were Damon." She wiped her eyes, a memory searing her brain. "I got my first period when I was thirteen. By then it was just Dad and me. I didn't know what was happening or what to do, and we didn't have the supplies I needed. It was a Saturday; Dad was working overtime so I was all alone. I sat in my bathroom and I called my mum but she didn't answer, not that she would do anything, but I was that desperate. Then I called Damon. I was in tears by the time he picked up the phone. I was so nervous and scared and awkward. He thought something had happened to me, and he kept insisting he call 911. When I finally told him what was happening, he took charge as if it was something he had done a thousand times before. He raided his mother's bathroom and packed everything in his backpack and rode his bike over to my house. He sat on the other side of the bathroom door while I—you know—and he read the instructions out loud to me. He kept saying things like, 'This is normal, Elena. Nothing to worry about, Elena. It just means you are a woman, Elena…'" She spoke through the giant knot in her throat. "Damon is still that same amazing boy he was back then, and up until Saturday night, he would never laid a hand on anybody. He is the most caring, most gentle person I know. He is there for all of his family. It was those qualities in Damon I found in Matt that made me fall for him in the first place."

The detectives were listening to her now, not just hearing her. Mayfield said, his voice weak, "Will you please tell us about your relationship with Matt Donovan. In detail?"

Elena nodded slowly, fear of the memories squeezing her throat shut. She twisted her hands, looked over at John. "You can leave, Dad…if you want to."

"Oh, sweetheart." John sat on the bed next to her, his arm around her. "It won't be any harder for me to hear than it is for you to tell. You are braver than anyone I know."

She wiped her tears again and tried to steady her emotions. She wanted to speak with conviction, with heart. And she did. She told them about how she and Matt met. How he would call every day when he was on campus and they would see each other every day when he was in town.

She mentioned the jealousy Matt felt for Damon, but how he restrained it. At least at the beginning. Then he started to do strange things like calling her in the middle of the night to make sure she was alone, that she wasn't with Damon. He would call her work, make sure she was there when she said she would be. He didn't like her talking to guys. Any guys. And she had never been in a serious relationship before so back then, she thought it was kind of flattering—the jealousy.

"He got me a car for my birthday, and I found out later that he installed a GPS tracking device in it. He did the same with my phone. When I realized, I was too scared to go home." She looked over at Giuseppe. "That's when you found me sitting in my car on your driveway and I wanted to say something, but I couldn't." She went back to the detectives, told them how whenever she wasn't with Matt, he stalked her from a distance. He knew where she was at all times. She tried to leave him during winter break.

"I said it was too much for me, and he promised he would stop. New Year's Eve, I was alone in a room on a houseboat and I was sick and I was scared and I needed Damon, he had always been there in the past. So I called his brother's phone because Matt had blocked Damon's number, and I knew they would be together. Matt came down a few minutes after midnight and caught me talking to someone. It feels strange to say "caught me" as if I was doing something so terribly wrong. In truth, I was negligent with Matt's wants, his needs, and those are the types of excuses I made throughout the entire relationship."

She even told the detectives that New Year's was the first time Matt had hurt her physically. He pushed her me against a wall, and she collapsed to the floor. Then he picked her up, his hands tight on her upper arms. He shook her and yelled and shook her some more until she puked all over him, all over herself.

"He made me clean it up while he went back to the party, to the loud music that hid the evidence of what he had done to me. I had bruises on my upper arms, but I didn't tell anyone. I hid the truth, hid my shame, hid my guilt."

She took a deep breath again before continuing about how when school started again, things got worse. Matt was under a lot of pressure. Again with the excuses. He had to maintain a certain GPA and his classes were killing him and his training was just as bad. He had started taking amphetamines so he could stay awake, stay alert, but they just made him crazy, paranoid. He became manipulative and vindictive and destructive, and every weekend she spent with him felt like she was walking on eggshells. He would always go for the places she could cover up: ribs, back, hips… and he knew she wouldn't tell.

"He used my weakness to his strength. Matt took me to a business dinner with his dad and some of his clients and Matt's dad kept talking down to him, saying that he would amount to nothing and running track wouldn't earn him a degree and Matt got so mad, so livid, and we got in his car and he pulled over in an abandoned parking lot and smashed my head against the window. It came out of nowhere. I screamed, and he covered my mouth and then he forced me to…"

She stopped there.

At the point where John released her, and all she felt was shame.

Then she heard him cry and she looked up, but it was not him, It was Giuseppe.

Mayfield asked, "He raped you?"

Her eyebrows pinched, confusion swirling. "No. I mean, I was his girlfriend and I was scared, so I just let him…"

"Oh, Elena," Giuseppe groaned, rubbing his face. He looked up, his eyes locked on her. "Why didn't you come to me, sweetheart? I understand if you were afraid to tell your dad or Damon, but all these years you have been like a daughter to me. You could have told me."

Elena broke down. Shut down. It hurt too much. Physically and emotionally. She grasped onto John, used his shirt to catch her cries. "Can we please stop now? I don't want to do this anymore." She looked up at her father and spoke through her sobs. "Please, Dad, make it stop?"

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews so far. I have never expected this story has brought out such a strong emotional response...Your support is my motivation to continue writing. I will try my very best to keep on writing Delena stories:)**


	36. Chapter 36

Damon didn't kill Matt.

Instead, he went outside and got some air, away from the media and the cameras and the reporters who had nothing better to do than wait around a hospital, digging for their next angle. He went far away, more than a hundred yards, so he didn't break his restraining order.

He found a bench under a tree. He sat. He thought…

The clothes.

The blocking of him from her phone.

The distance.

 _"We are still together. It is just hard…you know…"_

 _"There's so much I want to tell you…"_

Matt was controlling.

Unpredictable.

 _"I managed to escape—"_

 _"I'm so tired, Damon. Of everything."_

 _"I'm finally free of him."_

The darkness during sex.

 _"Be gentle with me, Damon."_

How did he not see this?

How did he not save her?

"Is this seat taken?"

Damon looked up to see a familiar face. Mrs Donovan was standing in front of him, huge sunglasses covering her eyes. She clutched her purse as if he was here to steal her money, as if she was not the one who approached him. "No, madam. Seat is free."

She sat next to him, crossed her legs. "I didn't know kids still say madam."

Damon looked straight ahead. "My mother taught me manners." She taught him a lot of things, like not to beat on women. _What the hell have you been teaching your son?_ He wondered.

He was sure she knew who he was, but she was faking it, and he would play her game and he would win because he was sick of losing. His mother. His freedom. His perspective. His goddamn mind.

She pulled out a stick of gum from her purse and offered it to him.

"No, thank you."

They were not friends. They didn't share gum. What the hell did she want?

"So polite," she mumbled.

"Like I said," he leaned back on the bench. "My mother taught me manners."

"It is Lillian, right? Your mother?"

Damon hated this so much. He hated that his mother's name left the mouth of Kelly Donovan. He started to leave, but she said, "Damon?"

He sighed and sat back down. "With all due respect, Mrs Donovan, what do you want from me?"

"So, you know who I am?"

"I saw you at the hospital the night your son tried to kill my best friend."

"I thought she was your girlfriend."

He faced her. "She is both."

She nodded, smiled like she had a right to. "I met your mother once, at this charity event. She was dancing with your dad, and I remember looking at them and being so jealous. They loved each other very much."

"Love," he corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"They love each other. You said loved. Love doesn't die just because one heart stops beating. When you love someone, you have the same heartbeat and it is still there, just not as strong. So no. There is no loved. Dad still loves her."

She stared at him a long moment, longer than he was comfortable with. Then she looked away, tried to hide her emotions. "Like you love Elena?"

"Elena is my heart, madam."

She sighed and picked at her dress. "You are lucky."

He was lucky? His girlfriend had been shot multiples times and he might be going to prison. He was lucky?

She added, "I have never known a love like that. I met Pete in high school. He was a lot like Matt. Popular and handsome and driven."

Damon didn't care.

"The first time Pete laid a hand on me I was seventeen. I didn't have friends or family to run to, so when he said he was sorry and that it wouldn't happen again, I believed him. Through the rest of high school and college, it kept happening. Then I found out I was pregnant and I thought it would change things. We got married and had Matt and for a while, it was perfect."

Damon still didn't care.

"Matt was four the first time Pete hit me in front of him. He ran away, up to his room, and locked himself in his closet. He was so scared, so petrified, and when he saw me and the damage his father had done, he started wailing. I should have protected him from it. I should have left Pete, but he was always there, a constant reminder that without him, I would have nothing. Even if I left, he would fight for custody of Matt and I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let him control our son. But without me realizing, he did it anyway. He wanted to mould Matt into him, and he succeeded. He put so much pressure on that boy…and Matt—he didn't know any better. That's what love was to him." She looked away, wiped her eyes, and continued, "I knew about Matt's amphetamine addiction and I didn't do anything about it, and when Elena called me from the hospital, my worst fears came true. Pete had created an identical version of him."

"Did she tell you what happened…at the hospital?"

Kelly didn't answer him, instead, she said, "Matt loved Elena so much and when she wanted to leave him, he lost his way. He wasn't himself that night, Damon, you have to understand."

"No."

"No?" she asked.

"No. I don't 'have to understand. I have sat here and listened to what you have had to say, and it is not good enough and it is not going to change anything. He was still there, he pulled the trigger, four times, and she is lying in a hospital bed minus a spleen with two bullets still inside her and you want to see justice. You want me behind bars because I did something someone should have done to your husband a long time ago. If you came here to try and make peace with yourself, I hope it helped. But there is no peace for me, and there is definitely none for Elena."

She nodded, removed her sunglasses so she could wipe her tears. Damon didn't miss the scars, the darkness and swelling around her eyes, and for a moment, he felt for her.

Really.

Truly.

She asked, "Do you regret what you did?"

He thought about the answer long and hard. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Elena. I see her lying on the ground in her blood-stained dress, and I didn't realize it at the time—I thought she was clutching her chest, clutching for breath, but she was holding on to this necklace my mother left her. I keep going back to that moment, and I try to come up with all these different scenarios. Try to think of other ways I could have handled it, and I can't. I just can't." He took a breath, looked down at his hands, pictured her blood on them. "I'm not sure if I will ever regret what I did, but I regret hurting you in the process." He looked up at her, met her gaze. "I have a brother, Mrs Donovan, and for some reason, he looks at me like I'm some kind of hero, and now I have to try to explain why his hero is going to prison." He stood up, faced her. "I'm sorry that you had to experience all that you have been through, madam. And if my mother was alive, she would want me to open up my home to you, somewhere safe you can go if you get scared. And so, the offer is there if you need it. But the excuses have to stop. For you, for Matt, for Elena."

Then he headed back to the hospital, made his way to Elena's room. He ignored the flowers and gifts and police protection just outside Matt's room and prepared himself to face-off with the detectives, but just before he opened the door, his phone rang.

It was University of Virginia.

They had pulled his scholarship.

x x x

There was this nightmare Damon had, only it didn't just happen at night. It happened every time he closed his eyes. He was on my knees and she was in her periwinkle dress, weak in his arms. She offered him those eyes and that was when he got handcuffed, dragged away, and then he was in a jail cell, bright orange jumpsuit, and in the middle of his cell was a giant hole in the ground, six feet deep, and in his dream, he always told himself not to look because he knew what was in there, who was in there. Still, he looked, and there was Elena, her arms crossed at her chest, and those eyes were closed and covered with crochet flowers.

"That's a little morbid, Damon," Elena said after he told her about the nightmare, the visions.

It had now been six days and twelve hours since the incident that had been dubbed The Night the Town Turned Red, Blue and Black. Three days since Matt left his hospital room with a few broken ribs, a busted jaw and some bruising that wouldn't be going away any time soon. But, at least he was not there, meaning Damon could see Elena whenever he wanted. It was also three days until his trial. His lawyers said he was lucky he was not being charged with attempted murder, but given the evidence (Stefan's video) and the circumstances, Matt with a gun (premeditated) and Damon with his anger, it would be easier for the Donovans to get what they wanted on the assault and battery charges alone. The Donovans had requested a different judge, someone who would see the facts, aka someone who accepted their money. Their request was granted, so there were no doubts Damon was going away. The question was for how long.

He watched Mason's car came up their driveway, then focused on Newton running around the front yard, the sprinklers on, and he wished Newton could at least make Elena happy. Because he wasn't sure how long he would be away from his family and from her. He was numb and he was tired. So tired.

Mason stepped out of his car with a bunch of flowers and stopped in front of Damon. Without a word, he sat next to Damon, placed the flowers between them. "I don't even know what to say," he mumbled.

"There's not a lot you can say."

Newton was standing in front of a jet of water, drinking it in.

"I heard about the trial coming up," Mason said. "I will be there, Damon, not that it matters. And I spoke to Principal Jenkins; he assures me that you and Elena are going to graduate regardless."

Senior year.

Graduation.

It felt like a different life.

Mason asked, "How are Stefan and your father doing?"

Damon sighed. "Stefan has locked himself in his room. He refuses to talk about it, refuses to see Elena. It was tough on him."

"Yeah," Mason said. "It must be tough. And now they are installing metal detectors at the doors and adding a security guard. It didn't even happen at the school."

Damon nodded, but it made him furious that the actions of Matt Donovan had set off a chain of events at a school where his brother would have to attend. He dropped his gaze, looked down at the flowers. "Thanks for the flowers," he said.

Mason laughed once. Forced. "They are not for you. They are for Elena. I tried to see her, but they won't let anyone in the room that's not on the list."

Damon faced him, eyes narrowed. "The list?"

"They have a list at the desk."

"Oh."

"You didn't know?"

Damon shrugged.

John called and said, "Can you get to the hospital? I need your help."

Damon's heart pounded, and he looked at Mason looked back at the house where Stefan was in his room, refusing to deal with reality.

Mason nudged him, somehow knowing what was going on. "I will watch him," he said. "Go."

Damon covered the phone. "Are you sure?"

"We will have fun."

It took six minutes and fourteen seconds to get from his house to the hospital, less than it took from the hotel in an ambulance, sirens and all. He rushed through the doors, now clear of media and went straight to Elena's room. John was pacing, Elena was sitting on the edge of her bed, her bags packed next to her. Her arms were crossed, her gaze distant.

Damon looked at John. "What happened?"

John said, "She is adamant on going home."

"But the nurses said—"

"I know, Damon. I can't get through to her. She's just been sitting there, stubborn as hell."

Damon cracked a smile. "Like old times, huh?"

John sighed. "I need to go for a walk, clear my head."

John left, and Damon looked at Elena again. She hadn't changed positions, hadn't stopped staring at the floor. He squatted in front of her, took her hands in his. "What's going on, babe?"

She didn't look at him when she said, tone flat, "Do you know it costs us two grand a day just to be here? That doesn't even include the surgery or the medicine or the rehab I'm going to need for my leg."

"I'm sure your dad is just relieved you are okay, Elena. All that stuff isn't important right now."

She shook her head. "We can't afford to pay that, Damon. Not now. Not ever. And you…" Her eyes finally met his, so sad, so distant. "Why didn't you tell me about University of Virginia pulling the scholarship?"

Damon sighed. "Because it is not important, either."

"It is important," she grinded out, her eyes filling with tears. Her jaw tensed, her breaths becoming harsher and harsher until…

Until she stood up, picked up a vase and threw it across the room. "It is important, and I'm sick of you all treating me like this!"

Damon stood, shocked, looked over at the shattered glass. "Elena!"

She shoved his chest, and he fell back a step. "I'm sick of you coming here every day and pretending like everything is going to be okay! You are going to prison, Damon. You are going to prison, and Dad has to take out more loans!" Another shove. Damon tried to hold her, take her wrists, but she was too wild, too angry, and he let her push him, over and over, her cries getting louder and louder. "I keep going back, keep trying to work out what the hell happened to me! How the hell did I get here?" She stopped pushing. Started limping around the room. "I have ruined everyone's life, Damon! Everyone's! And I want to go home. We can't afford for me to be here anymore!" She froze, turned to him, her eyes on his. "And you need to go to University! Even without the scholarship, you can still go, right? You can't stay for me! I won't let you!"

"Elena." He tried to breathe through the pain. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Jesus Christ," a woman said, and his gaze snapped to the door, to Mrs Donovan standing there and how long had she been here? How much had she heard? She said, "Elena, you are bleeding."

Damon looked back at Elena now sitting on the bed, looking down at her abdomen. The blood seeped through her blue hospital gown onto her hands. Blood everywhere. Blood everywhere.

"Damon, call for a nurse," Kelly Donovan ordered.

He found what little strength he had left, put one foot in front of the other, found a nurse in the hallway and took her back to Elena's room.

"What happened?" the nurse said, looking between Kelly and Damon and the broken vase on the floor, shattered, just like Damon's heart. Whoever said the truth set you free was a liar. It caged you, kept you locked in your head with no escape.

Damon didn't speak. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do.

"Elena," said the nurse. "You have torn your stitches."

"Leave it," Elena snapped.

"We have to sew it back up and stop the bleeding."

"Just smack a Band-Aid on it so I can go home," Elena told her. "It will heal fine."

"Is she ready to go home?" Kelly Donovan asked.

The nurse shook her head. "Not even close."

Damon stood by the door, his hands behind his back, looked down at the floor.

"I didn't mean it," Elena cried.

"You didn't mean to break the vase?" the nurse asked. "It is okay, sweetheart. We will clean up."

"No…Damon!"

Damon lifted his gaze.

She was covering her mouth, muffling her cries. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he whispered but he knew it was not.

She reached for him, winced in pain. He went to her, took her in his arms. She cried into his chest. He cried into her hair.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, and he wanted to take her pain away. "I don't know why I said those things. I'm just trying to make sense of everything and I can't…"

"It is okay," he said.

"Can he stay?" she asked the nurse. "When you stitch me up?"

"If you are comfortable with him seeing your wounds, I don't see why not."

Kelly Donovan left while the nurse stitched Elena up again, changed her dressing. The physical scars that would mar her body would be nothing compared to her emotional ones. John returned, his reaction the same as the nurses. "What the hell happened?"

"I lost it," Elena said, woozy from the anaesthetic. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It is okay," John told her, but he was looking at Damon, his eyes worried.

A moment later, Elena was asleep, and Damon explained to John everything that happened as best as he could. "I think it was just building up and she needed to get it out and this was her way of doing that."

He motioned to the door and John followed behind him. "Is it really costing two grand a day for her to be here?"

John rubbed his sad, tired eyes. "That's just for the stay. I'm in over a hundred."

"Grand?"

"Welcome to adulthood, son."

"I have some money my mum left me," Damon offered.

John shook his head, a man of pride. "I'm not taking your money, Damon. I will handle this the same way we have handled everything else."

They stood in silence a moment, a heavy thought hanging between them. It shouldn't be up to John to cover this. "They should be paying for this, financially and otherwise," Damon mumbled.

John sighed. "You don't think I have thought about that? But doing that would mean forcing Elena through more hell with the Donovans. She has experienced enough of that." He paused a beat, looked away and avoided Damon's gaze. "I failed her, Damon. I was so wrapped up in my relationship with Jules, I never even saw this coming."

"I was with her," Damon admitted. "I watched that entire relationship form and continue and break down, and I—"

"But I'm her father," John whispered.

"And I'm her best friend. I let her go with him that night." Damon grasped John's shoulder. "We are all going to walk away from this with regrets, but it is what we do with those that's going to change her life. And I think, right now, it is important to remember that at least she has the chance to live one."

Damon left John to stay with Elena, and he went in search of Kelly Donovan. He wanted to know why she was here, what the hell it was she wanted. He found her at the admin desk of the recovery ward, two folders in front of her. She said to the clerk, her voice low, "Are you able to make this one out as if their insurance covered it?"

The clerk nodded, and Damon stopped next to Kelly. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She flinched at the sound of his voice. "Nothing."

He looked down at the open folders. Medical bills. One for Matt Donovan. The other for Elena Gilbert. He didn't even bother asking how she had access to the file because she was who she was. Instead, he asked, "How much did you hear in there?"

Her hand was gentle when she touched his arm, waiting for him to meet her gaze. "I heard nothing. Just like I'm doing nothing. You understand, Damon?"

Damon swallowed the lump in his throat, realization forming. "Yes, madam."

"Good." She released him. "How is Elena?"

"She is going to be okay."

She smiled. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out a pamphlet. "I have done some research into some rehab facilities for Elena. The best one is forty-five minutes away, but I figured, you being you, you won't mind driving her."

Damon took the pamphlet from her, pretended like he was skimming it as if he hadn't done his own research. "Mrs Donovan, I appreciate this, but John—Mr Gilbert—he can't afford the best. He can barely afford mediocre."

"Oh, it is covered," she said with a wink. "By insurance. Also, expect to be getting a call from your lawyers about us dropping the charges."

Damon stopped breathing. "I'm sorry?"

She reached up, cupped his face in her hands, looked into his eyes. "I know evil, Damon. I have stared it right in the eyes and wished for death. Evil people belong in prison. You are not evil. You are everything Elena said you were." She offered him one last smile before walking away.

When he sat in the holding cell, he started to question his mother's belief in fate. Instead, he wanted to believe in circumstance, in justice. But maybe his mother was right. Because right now, there was absolutely no logical reason why this was happening. "Mrs Donovan?" he called out, waited for her to stop and faced him. He jogged over to her. "Why are you doing this?"

She wiped at her eyes, lifted her chin. "Because I failed my son by not acting, not speaking up, not changing the course of his life." A single tear streaked down her cheek, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. "But it is not too late to change yours. Yours and Elena's. You are both amazing kids, and Elena is lucky to have you."

"I'm the lucky one."

"I knew you would say that."

"I'm sorry, madam. About Matt. About your husband. You really are a good person."

She dropped her gaze, and when she looked back up, she was smiling. "Good is the enemy of great, Damon. I want to be great."

His lawyers called a few minutes after Mrs Donovan left the hospital to confirm what she had told him. The Donovans had dropped the assault charges.

Damon waited for Elena to wake up before calling Giuseppe and asking him to come to the hospital. He wanted them all here. Especially Stefan.

"He won't want to," Giuseppe said.

"Make him."

He hung up.

Elena asked, "What is going on, Damon?"

"Wait. I want everyone here."

"Am I pregnant?" she joked.

John's face paled. "Don't do that," he said, and Damon finally found something to laugh about.

Stefan entered the room and went straight to Elena. Every other time he had come in, she had been asleep. "I'm sorry," was the first thing he said. "I should have stepped in—"

"Shut up," she cut in. "I don't want to hear it. Not now. Not ever. You understand?"

"But—"

"Stefan."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Okay." He chuckled. "You look really pretty, even in a hospital gown."

"Yeah. The pale blue really brings out the colour in my eyes." She looked at Damon. "So, what's up, Damon?"

She squealed when Damon told her the news. "So we can be together? You are not going anywhere?" She hugged him tight, and he told her to be careful—her stitches—but she didn't seem to care. Her hug was replaced by Giuseppe's John's, and then his brother. Stefan held him the longest, told him he was scared, that he didn't know what he would do without his big brother and the truth was, Damon was scared, too, of what he would do without his family.

Damon called in another favour from the head chef at Pino's, and he was more than happy to oblige. Everyone knew about the shooting, about Elena, and he offered to make her meals every night she was in the hospital, on the house. Damon picked up the food, and Elena and he would have dinner on her bed, the room light dimmed. "Are you sad about not beating Lord Voldemort's record?" she asked.

"Voldemort?"

"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

He shrugged. He hadn't even thought about it. Hadn't gone on a single run since prom. "Not really. It is petty compared."

"Yeah," she said. "Besides,"—she pointed to herself—"You got the grand prize right here."

She was crazy.

And Damon loved crazy Elena.

When he got home later that evening, he looked around his room. And a calm washed through him, a vision of his future. He took one look at the trophies, said goodbye to his old life. A life that never defined him like his family did. Like Elena did.

* * *

 **I can't believe this story has 400 reviews! I'm very excited and glad that my readers are enjoying this story as much as I do. Thank you for everything:)  
**


	37. Chapter 37

The minivan smelled like hot dogs and stale socks, and Damon smiled in Giuseppe's direction because he just said, "I'm proud of you for doing this, Damon."

Damon knew he should do more than just smile because he was lucky. Really, he was. And everyone had told him so. Numerous times.

The day after Kelly Donovan paid he and Elena a visit at the hospital, two things happened. University of Virginia had called, offered him back his scholarship. But he told them he would think about it. The biggest thing, though, was that Elena's lawyers showed up at the hospital, along with Kelly Donovan, and they helped guide them towards a decision that would affect Elena's future, her life.

In the back of the van, Sarah and Stefan couldn't stop arguing. Everything was back to normal. Only, it was not. Because Damon was on the way to his graduation ceremony, while across town, Matt Donovan was pleading guilty, accepting a plea bargain that would put him away for eight to ten years. The back half to be spent in minimum security where his mother would do everything she could to help heal him. He wasn't a bad person, she told them, he was just really troubled. Damon wanted so badly not to believe her, but Matt was her son. And truth was, Lillian would have done the same.

Damon sat in a robe in the middle of a row of chairs, listening to George (the valedictorian) relayed his speech about what a great four years high school had been, how high school was and would always be the greatest years of their lives, how excited they should all be about their future, how the rest of their lives would start now. Next to him, Elena settled her head on his shoulder, excused from the alphabetized seating and name calling so he could help her up the steps and onto the stage. She didn't want to use her crutches.

Two days ago, she was released from the hospital under the doctor's advisement, not hers. That night, she and John also celebrated their freedom, away from the hospital, away from debt. Their "insurance" covered everything.

Names were called, one after the other, and the families cheered and they clapped, and when his and Elena's names were called, they slowly made their way up the steps, and shook hands with the principal. The cheers intensify, all for Elena, now known by the town as The Girl Who Got Shot.

After the ceremony, Damon helped John move some bags from his trunk to the minivan. Elena was moving in with him. At least temporarily. She had set on life going back to normal, which meant John going back to work. Damon would be taking her to rehab, check-ups, taking care of her.

"I have cleaned the place," he told Elena, opening the door for her. "And I filled the pantry, bought everything you like. I got some good recipes online, stuff even I can make. And I brought over all your craft stuff. I figure you can still use your hands so…" He dropped her bag by the front door and patted down the couch for her.

"I love you, Damon," she said, her smile heard in her words. "And I love that you have done all this for me."

"It is no problem."

"But you know what I'd really love?" She leaned on her crutches, exhausted.

"Rest. Of course. I will get the bed ready."

She laughed. "Damon."

"What?" He checked over her. No blood everywhere. "What is wrong?"

"I want you to pick me up, carry me to the bedroom, and I want you to make out with me for, like, five hours straight."

He grinned. "Yes, madam."

He ran a finger between her bare breasts, around the dressing covering her wound, down to her panties, and back up again. They made out for a total of five minutes before she wanted me to take off his T-shirt, which of course he did. Then she asked him to take off hers, then her bra, then her pants, and then they made out for another minute more before she winced in pain and he told her they should stop. So now she was lying on the bed, her leg elevated, looking up at him while he smiled down at her. "The doctor said we should wait a couple of weeks, make sure everything has healed before they started to make love again," she said.

"You asked him about it?"

She shook her head lazily, worn out from the long, active day. "I think he could tell by the way we were around each other." Her words were slow, drawn out, and Damon could tell she was losing the fight to fake it.

"You should rest, babe. I will go start dinner."

She nodded, and less than two minutes later, she was asleep.

Once Damon had prepped dinner and it was in the oven, he went back in to check on Elena. She was sitting up in bed, and he watched from the doorway as she slowly put her top back on. "You need any help with that?"

Elena shook her head and looked up at me with those eyes, and he was quick to go to her, to kneel at her feet, because he was that guy.

"You need to stop doing that, Damon."

"I'm trying, babe." Honestly, he was. "But it was hard for me. You weren't there—I mean, obviously, you were, but…" He took her hands, looked in her eyes. "I came so close to losing you once, to having my greatest fears come true, and I'm sorry that I'm fussing over you like this, and if the roles were reversed, I would hate it, too. But, Elea, I love you—"

She giggled, cutting him off. "You are so romantic."

God, he missed her laugh.

He rolled eyes. "Sorry. I love you, babe."

"Much better."

"You ready for rehab tomorrow?" he asked.

She quirked an eyebrow. "You ready for your 4:45 run?"

"Why do I have to do that?" He whined. "It is summer."

"You ran every day last summer."

"But that's because I was on the track team."

"And you will be on the track team at University. Did you call them yet? Tell them you are going?"

The oven timer went off and he exhaled, relieved. "I made a chicken and cheese pasta bake."

At 4:45 the next morning, Elena's alarm went off. His didn't. She knew he wouldn't set it, so she set hers instead. Sneaky Elena.

"Have fun!" she shouted, and Damon rolled over to his side and faced her.

"You are mean."

She smiled. "Old times, baby. I want old times."

He didn't recall the last time he had gone this long without running, and it was not fun. At all. He almost gave up halfway through his standard route, but he pushed on because he knew it was important to Elena. When he got back, he showered, made breakfast. He took it to the bedroom on a tray and Elena sat up. "You are the best boyfriend ever," she said, then looked down at the food: juice, yogurt, granola and dry toast. She looked up, nose scrunched.

"You have to eat healthier. No spleen means low immune system."

She frowned. Those eyes. "But I have been eating hospital food for weeks and this is…"

"This is mine."

"Thank God!"

He got her tray from the kitchen. Coffee, Pop Tarts and a Snickers bar.

She licked her lips, looked up at him. "I swear, as soon as I'm healed, you are totally getting a handy."

"I can give myself handies, Elena. This,"—he pointed to her tray of sugar—"totally earned me a blowy."

"You are such a dork."

"Will you at least let me shower with you?"

"You just had a shower."

"But not with you."

"Damon…" She dropped her Pop Tart on the tray. "I have to shower without the dressing and—"

"And I have seen your wounds," he told her.

"But not lately and they are all oozy and gross."

"Did you miss the part where I told you I love you?"

She sighed. Conceded. He won.

The rehab facility was more like a five-star hotel, and Elena didn't stop looking around, touching everything she could reach. Alfred and Roger—the two male doctors in their mid-forties who were assigned to them were also the owners of the place, and they assured them that Elena would be a priority with them.

Money could definitely do a lot, Damon thought.

The entire appointment was about telling them Elena's injuries, going through X-rays and other scans, and then telling them what the plan was. There were two bullets still inside Elena, one near her hip, one in her thigh. They were able to remove the one in her abdomen and the one near her knee, but it was the aftermath of that last one which would need the most help. The bullet clipped her kneecap, tore through her ACL. "Do we work on it like we would any other ACL injury?" Damon asked.

"Yes and no," Alfred said. "It is going to take a lot longer to rebuild the muscles."

"Are you familiar with ACL injuries?" Roger asked Damon.

"My buddy tore his last year. He runs long distance so he was out a while."

"You run track, too?" Alfred asked.

"I used to. In high school." In another life.

"You joining the team in college?" he asked.

Damon looked over at the X-rays. "So a lot of wading in water initially, getting it used to subtle movement, right?"

"Right," Roger said. "Do you have access to a pool?"

"We have a lake," Damon told them. "But the wounds are still healing, so I don't know about lake water. In the meantime, we can use the facilities here?"

"Doctor Damon Salvatore," Elena announced, and the real doctors laughed. Smartass Elena.

But he loved smartass Elena.

In the car on the way home, Elena thanked Damon for asking all the right questions and knowing what to say. She admitted it was all a little overwhelming for her. It was overwhelming for him, too, but while she was focused on life getting back to normal, he was just as focused on fixing her.

"Are you looking forward to the tryouts this afternoon, Coach Damon?" she asked.

"Yeah, it should be good," he told her. "You want me to take you home, or you want to come watch?"

"I want to come. Stefan is going to hang with me."

He watched her from the corner of his eye as she sent a text on her phone, a smile tugging on her lips. "I never really noticed how close you and Stefan were."

She nodded, her smile growing when a response came through.

"Is that him you are messaging?"

"Yep."

"Did you guys…I mean not that it matters, but did you ever consider…you know?"

"Dating him?" she asked, all Casual Elena like.

"Yeah."

"Only to make you jealous. We had it all planned out, but then it got to the part where we had to kiss in front of you, and the thought alone was awkward enough so we vetoed that idea real quick."

"You had a plan?"

She nodded, giggled. "I was so desperate for you to notice me standing on the sidelines, waiting for you."

"Funny," Damon said. "I always felt like you were the star player and I was up in the nose bleeds."

"You know what we are?" she asked, settling her hand on his leg.

He lifted her hand, kissed her wrist. "We are idiots."

"The worst kind." She removed her seat-belt just long enough to sit in the middle. She rested her head on his shoulder, said, "This is going to be fun."

It was not fun. Not at all.

Damon was quick to realize that coaching a bunch of seven to eight-year-old would be nothing like he thought.

But it didn't matter because Elena was with him.

* * *

 **I was listening to the song "As long as you are there" when I was writing this chapter...when the right person is with you, it doesn't matter where you are and what you are doing, you will still feel happy and contented.**

 **Thank you again for the support and wonderful reviews. Without your support, I don't think I can keep on writing Delena stories:) Thank you!**


	38. Chapter 38

"Is that everything on the list?" Stefan asked Elena, walking towards the checkout at the grocery store.

Elena sat in a wheelchair while Damon pushed her around. She hated the chair but the crutches were starting to bruise her armpits, and they both knew they would be in the store a long time. She wanted to make the young kids Damon coached snacks for their game later in the afternoon, and when Elena made anything, it had to be perfect and slightly over the top. Damon told her sliced oranges and water was the norm. She was baking them cookies.

"I think so," she said, her gaze shifting from the cart to her list, tick, tick, ticking off items.

"I can come back if you have forgotten anything," Damon said, because he knew how important it was for her to do this. It was not as if she had a lot of anything else going on, and he could tell she was starting to go stir-crazy.

Stefan started loading the items from the cart while he got out Giuseppe's company credit card—part of his sponsorship deal. That was when they heard two women ahead of them gossiping about that Donovan kid and the builder's daughter and The Night the Town Turned Red and Blue and Black. He looked down at Elena, but she was looking down at her hands. "That poor Donovan kid," one of them said, "he must have been so lost to do something so horrible."

Damon clenched his jaw, his fist. he started to speak, but Stefan beat him to it. "That poor Donovan kid tried to kill my brother's girlfriend, his best friend, our sister from another mister, lady!" he shouted. Damon should tell him to stop. He didn't. Stefan added, "Now hurry up and buy your super-sized tampons and twelve-inch dildo and shove them up your ass!"

Damon swore the look on her face was worth listening to her bullshit. She looked first at Stefan, then to Damon. She ignored Elena sitting in the wheelchair, the aftermath of that poor Donovan kid. "You Salvatore punks!" she scolded, aghast.

Damon smiled up at her, insisted he paid for her groceries. Killed her with kindness and her guilt. Once her bags were packed and in her arms, Stefan called her a whore and Elena found her voice. "Have a phenomenal day, bitches."

Stefan cackled, high-fived her. Damon told her she just earned a handy, and she high-fived him, too. And that was what life was like in Mystic Falls: The poor Donovan kid, the builder's daughter, and the Salvatore punks—the topic of all gossip. But gossip was like dust, floating in the air, temporarily marring the things it landed on. It was not forever. It was not them.

"Hey," Sarah said, stepping beside Damon as he kept an eye on the game.

"First base is that way!" he yelled, pointing to the base. "You are running to third! Come on, boys!"

"Matt Donovan's mum is here," she said.

He ignored the twisting in his gut at the mention of his name. "What?"

"She is here."

Damon faced her. "Where?"

Sarah pointed to Elena sitting in the stands wearing the team jersey. Elena mentioned she felt left out so he ordered her a team jersey. The back of hers said: Damon Salvatore's. Sitting next to her was a woman he hadn't seen since before Elena left the hospital.

"They have been sitting together, laughing and talking for half an hour. Is it her?" Sarah asked.

"It is her," he confirmed.

"What the hell is she doing here?"

"I have no idea."

The umpire called the game, and Sarah and he both whispered, "Thank God." Then they gathered the kids who belonged to them. Sarah took the gears and the boys to the minivan while he made his way towards Elena. She stayed seated, Kelly Donovan was standing. "Hi, Damon," she said, her voice soft. "Your team definitely has…potential."

"I don't know if potential is the right word," he told her, but he was looking at Elena who was looking down at her hands. "Mrs Donovan, you mind if I have a minute with my girl?"

"Sure," Kelly said. "I will be down by the dugout."

Damon waited until she was no longer within hearing distance to sit next to Elena. "That was a little rude, Damon," Elena told him.

"What is she doing here? Is she giving you a hard time?"

"No." She scoffed, and shook her head. "She is not like that."

"So what did she want?"

"She wanted to thank me. And you."

"For what?"

Elena faced for the first time since he sat down. "For giving her the courage to leave her husband. She gave him the divorce papers a couple of weeks ago, and he signed off on it. He is leaving her the house and leaving town."

He nodded slowly, looked over at Kelly standing by the dugout, wringing her hands as she watched them. "I'm happy for her."

"Me too," Elena said, then tapped on his arm. When he looked back at her, she was frowning. "She doesn't have anyone, Damon. Her son is in—"

"I know where he is, Elena."

"And now her husband is gone and I'm her only real friend."

"You consider her a friend?"

Her gaze dropped. "You know, when I spent that week in the hospital in Richmond, she wasn't just there to pay the bill. She stayed by my side the entire time. She never left. Not once."

Damon sighed and took her hand in his. "Babe, I want to like her. Really, I do. And I have tried," he told her truthfully. "But she knew what was going on with you, and she should have told someone."

Elena shrugged, her eyes filling with tears. She was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I should have told someone, too, Damon. But you don't understand that fear." A sob escaped her and it broke his heart. "That fear chokes you. Silences you. And I want so badly to find a way to explain that to you, but I can't. And with her—I don't need to. She knows. She has lived in that fear for so long."

He grabbed her crutches and handed them to her. "Come on." Then he helped her down a few steps and towards a waiting Kelly. "I'm sorry for being rude earlier, Mrs Donovan."

She smiled. "Kelly, please."

"Kelly."

It was strange—how knowing her name, saying it, separating it from the part that darkened her—changed the way he saw her almost instantly. "We are having a cookout tonight—my family and Elena's. It won't be anything fancy, burgers and hot dogs, but I'd like it if you came."

She looked between Elena and Damon, unable to hide her uncertainty. "Thank you for the invitation, but I'm not sure that I would be very welcome."

"You will be," Elena assured. "Damon's family doesn't just open up their home, they open up their hearts."

x x x

Elena believed that she had the greatest boyfriend in the world, and she didn't just say that because she had experienced both ends of the spectrum. She said it because it was true, because there weren't many guys around who were willing to sacrifice so much not just for him, but for his family. Who had a heart larger than the world, who spread his love as if it was never-ending, and maybe with him, it was.

"Go long," Damon shouted, football in his hand. Mason and Stefan ran farther away from him, shoving each other and laughing as they did.

"Damon has got a good arm," Jules said, joining Elena at the table while Giuseppe worked on the grill close by. "He ever plays?"

"He has played everything and been good, too," Elena told her. "But when he started to get scouted by colleges for track, he cut out the rest and focused on that."

"Has he made a decision about University yet?"

Elena shook her head.

Giuseppe said, "You know Damon. He does everything in his own time."

It was true. Damon did.

She looked over at Damon, now wrestling on the ground with Stefan and Mason while Sarah approached, water pistol filled and aimed. Stefan saw her, stood up, her arms crossed. He shouted, "No guns around Elena!" and swiftly took it from Sarah, threw it as far as he could.

Elena's heart sank and Sarah looked over at her. "Sorry," she mouthed.

Elena shook her head. It was fine. And it was also really, really sweet of Stefan to be so protective. Damon's alarm went off on his phone sitting on the table, and she called out to him. He approached quickly. He ran to his truck and returned a few seconds later with his backpack. Then he sat next to Elena, his little notepad and all her pill bottles set out in front of him. She got a napkin, placed it between them while he went through his notes, sets out his meds.

She didn't take as many painkillers as she used to, but they made her groggy, unaware, and when Damon noticed, he made it his mission to take over. He placed four pills, all different colours, on the napkin and slid it over to her along with a glass of water. "Wait," he said, checking his notes again, "Yeah, it is right. Go ahead."

She downed the pills, noticed Kelly watching her, sadness, sorrow and regret unmasked in her features. "The medication you need—it is all covered by insurance, right?"

Elena nodded. "As long as we get them from the hospital pharmacy, it is covered."

"Is it a hassle for you to go there? Is there a different pharmacy that—"

"It is no problem," Damon cut in, offered her a heart-stopping smile. "The service there is better anyway."

Elena squeezed Kelly's hand resting on the table. "Please don't worry," she said, her voice low, words only for Kelly. "I'm doing well. I'm happy."

"Good, Elena." Kelly held back her tears. "That's all I want."

"And you?" Elena asked. "Are you happy?"

Kelly looked around, took in the joy that only the Salvatore family could bring. "I'm getting there."

Later in bed, Damon massaged her injured leg. "So you and Kelly got pretty close, huh?"

"Yeah, we did."

"Even before Richmond?" he asked. "It just seems like it was more than just a week spent in a hospital, but if you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

She watched him a moment, watched him focus on her leg and not much else, and she wondered how much to tell him, wondered which parts would be too much for him to handle. "We spent a lot of long nights cleaning each other up after…" After the Donovan men did their damage.

Damon nodded, his hands slowing, his throat bobbing with his swallow.

"But in Richmond, it was different. We didn't have to whisper or tip toe around our feelings. They weren't there so we could be open about everything. I told her about you."

He looked up now, his eyes meeting hers.

"I pretty much spent the entire week telling her about you and me, how we met, your family. It was the only thing that could cheer me up, take my mind off everything that was happening."

"What did you tell her about me?"

"I told her that you were a man of strength and honour and sacrifice. I said that I had been in love with you since we were twelve, since I saw you coming down your porch steps in your Superman T-shirt with Newton. And I said that I made a mistake keeping my feelings for you a secret for so long." A smile tugged on her lips and she tried to restrain it, but she couldn't. Because Damon was looking at her in a way she spent years hoping he would—as if the world began and ended right where their hearts connected.

He stopped massaging her legs, laid down beside her and kissed her once. "And what did she say to that?"

"She convinced me to go home, to not hold back my feelings anymore, to let you love me and to love you back. And now we do. We love hard, love fierce, and love right. And we are learning, Damon. Always learning."


	39. Chapter 39

Elena was finally off the crutches but she was still doing rehab.

And she was still limping around.

The therapists at the rehab clinic said that it might always be the case, at least a slight limp, because of exactly where the bullet went through her knee. But her hip was better—she shouldn't feel any long-term damage from that. Also, she was seeing a different type of therapist once a week. Well, she and Damon saw the therapist together. It kind of happened by accident. She and Stefan were in the store, and a woman stopped him in front of the cereal aisle and asked him how he was doing, said she hadn't seen him in a while.

Elena thought Stefan was going through some weird phase, and she almost shouted "Pedophile Alert!" It turned out the woman was his therapist. At least, that was how he introduced Lexi to her, his gaze lowered, cheeks red. He was embarrassed, Elena could tell. He told her later that after the shooting, he had seen Lexi quite a bit. Elena didn't know that it had affected him as much as it did, and they spent most of the afternoon talking about it. "It helps to talk," he said. "Even if nothing feels resolved, getting it out there makes a huge difference."

Elena asked for Lexi's number, made an appointment to see her the following week. At first, it was to show that Stefan had nothing to feel embarrassed about, but he was right, getting it out there helped so much. "I have been having these dreams," she told Lexi in the first session, Damon next to her, holding her hand. "They aren't morbid like Damon's, but they are not really dreams, either. They are more like visions. Like flashbacks."

"Of the shooting?" she asked.

Elena shook her head. "Of the things he did to me before that."

Damon squeezed her hand tighter, not out of comfort, but from anger.

She told Lexi, a sob caught in her throat, "I have trouble understanding how it is I let myself get into that situation. I have always thought of myself as a confident person, strong-willed and determined." She let the tears fell, and Damon put his arms around her, kissed her temple. "I don't know how I became so weak around him. How I let him do those things, how I let it—"

"It is not your fault," Damon cut in.

Lexi raised her hand, smiled at him. "It is extremely important for Elena to get this out." And it was. It was exactly what Stefan said. Talking helped. So she told Lexi more about how she felt, not so much about the beatings or the shooting, but how she felt about herself. Damon listened, and he learned. Always learning. And at the end, she said, "And I think it is important for Damon to be here so he can hear it all, so he can deal with his feelings about what happened. I worry that he will carry that anger, that fear, for longer than necessary. And I want us to help each other deal with those feelings."

Lexi looked at Damon, then at Elena, back to him. Damon sighed. "I try hard not to show my anger to Elena— because I don't want her to think she has done anything wrong, but at the same time, my anger is justified. That asshole did horrible things to someone I love, multiple times, and I'm not going to apologize for the way he makes me feel."

It took three sessions for Damon to understand that by talking about it, it didn't mean that she blamed herself. She just wanted closure. For herself. So she could move on and not second-guess everything she said, everything she did, especially when it came to their relationship—which, she and Damon agreed—was the most important thing to both of them.

When they got home that night, he spent two hours showing Elena how he thought she should be treated. He was so careful with her body, so gentle with his touch, so open with his adoration both physically and emotionally. She cried when his lips skimmed her scars, when he whispered her name, when he told her he loved her, when he let her experience the pleasure of his mouth, of his fingers, of his determination to love her right. And when she was done, he laid beside her, kissed away her tears, and she thought of John's words all those years ago:

 _"You impress people with your mind. With your kind heart and humble attitude. And while you are a beautiful girl, your looks or the way you dress shouldn't be the reason people are impressed by you. And when you are older and boys start to notice you, I want you to remember that. Because if it is only your looks they are attracted to, then they are not the one for you, Elena. You can do better. You will do better."_

She took Damon's face in her hands, kissed him until she could no longer breathe. "You are the one for me, Damon Salvatore."

x x x

"Are you sure you are going to be okay?"

It was the third time Damon had asked in the past five minutes. Today was the first day he would be working with his dad. It was also the first day classes start at University of Virginia. He was able to defer a semester due to their circumstances (and also a little pull from Kelly), and it was the first time he was leaving Elena alone for more than an hour.

"I will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Babe."

"I wouldn't go if Dad didn't need me."

"I want you to go. I want you to have more in your life than just sitting at home and taking care of me," Elena told him, bagging his lunch at the kitchen counter of their apartment. She had moved in officially with Damon since she left the hospital. John came by every second day, like clockwork. She saw him more now than she did when she lived at home.

Damon wrapped his arms around her waist, kisses her neck. "But I like doing that."

She turned in his arms, looked up at him. "And I love you for it."

"What are you doing today?"

"Hanging with Stefan. He is taking Kelly and me to that craft store in Richmond She can't stop knitting now that she knows how to do it."

Damon's gaze narrowed as he stepped back, eyed her from head to toe. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

Elena giggled. "No. But is it working?"

"Is this what you are wearing?"

She looked down at her dress. Back up at him. "Yeah. Why?"

"It is a little too cute to be wasted on Stefan, don't you think?"

God, he did crazy things to her heart…and other places, a little lower. She pulled down the collar of his Salvatore Construction work shirt, kissed his collarbone, bit it gently.

He moaned. "I know you want me, Elena. Just ask for it."

"Shut up."

He shifted her dress to her hips, lifted her onto the counter, then raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Elena shook her head, pressed her lips tight, and he chuckled, nuzzled her neck, kissed her there, soft and slow.

She grasped his arms, try to stay upright. But then he lowered the strap of her dress and freed her breasts from her bra and his mouth was there and she went insane with want, with need, and her hands were on his belt, on his zipper, and she was releasing him while he pushed her panties to the side, and the front door opened, and she squealed.

"Oh, my God," Sarah said. "Are they sexing?"

"Jesus," Stefan groaned as he took Sarah and left, closing the door after them.

"Two minutes," I breathe out.

Damon laughed.

"Shut up," she scowled. "And why is the front door unlocked? I told you to make sure—"

"You were out last when you went for your run!" he cut in.

"Was not."

"Was to!"

"Was not!"

"Was to!"

He rolled his eyes. "We are like an old married couple."

Elena smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He stood higher, covered her up and adjusted her dress. She did the same for him. He kissed her once. "Have a good day with Stefan and Kelly."

"Have a good day at work." She handed him his lunch, and he kissed her again. "I will miss you," she told him, and she would. She had gotten so used to him being around.

He headed for the door, and she started on cleaning the kitchen.

"Hey, Elena," he said, hand on the doorknob.

"Yeah?"

"I will need a few years."

"For what?"

"For the whole married-couple thing."

Her heart lodged in her throat, stopped her from breathing.

"Wait for me, okay?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

He smiled. "I love you, Elena Gilbert."

x x x

Elena got home a half hour before Damon did, and when he entered their apartment covered in construction dust and dirt, she frowned. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," he told her "I'm going to jump in the shower real quick."

He returned to the living room five minutes later, shirtless and in running shorts.

"You going for a run?"

He shook his head, flopped onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table, rolled his neck from side to side.

She sat behind him, massaged his shoulders, and he moaned in appreciation. "Tough day?" she asked, kissing his cheek.

"I don't think I realized how hard our dads work until today."

"Did you hate it?"

"As weird as it sounds, I really enjoyed it. I mean, I had worked for him before, but it was different today. I was in the mix, you know? It is good, hard, honest work. And when you think about it, we are building a house for a family, and they are going to live and make memories in there. It will mean so much to them. It is…rewarding."

"So…you like working?"

He grasped her hands, stopped her from working on his shoulders, and turned to her. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that."

"About what?"

"Well…" He moved to sit on the couch next to her and shifted her legs until they were on top of his. He massaged her knee and said, "This project is going to be done in a couple of weeks. After that, they are building a new house from the bottom up, and I think I really want to be part of that. See it through to the end. Dad said he could use the extra hands, and I could work around your rehab and our therapy, and it is not like we couldn't use the money."

"I will get a job."

"Babe." He laughed once, waited until she was looking at him. "You are not listening to me."

"I am. But this isn't 1950, Damon. I'm not just here to make you lunch and send you off to work to provide for me."

He sighed, his gaze distant. "I don't see the problem with that, Elena. That's how things were with my mum and dad, and it worked for them. The point is I want to work. And I want to take care of you. I don't want you getting a job until you are fully healed, and even then you don't have to. You can go to community college, build up some credits, or not…I mean, you can do whatever you want. You can sit around and knit all day. I don't care. I just want you to do whatever is going to make you happy."

"And this job," she asked, loving him more with every second, "this job is going to make you happy?"

"I think so."

"What about University of Virginia?"

"University of Virginia is months away; we will cross that bridge when we get to it."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the support and kind reviews. I'm still very excited to know that my readers are enjoying this Delena story. I thought "Love Me Like You Do" was still be the favourite DE story but it looks like this one is also getting a lot of support:) It is coming to an end soon and I hope you guys/gals have thoroughly enjoyed this journey because I have:)**


	40. Chapter 40

_Year 2008_

They did cross that bridge. Damon deferred for another semester. He was in the middle of building a house, and he wanted to see it to the end, so he did. Elena got her old job back, working at the movie theatre, day shifts only. It was pretty quiet during the day, so she spent most of the time flipping through course catalogues trying to find something that interested her. It had been nine months, and she still didn't know what to do with her life.

Her injuries had fully healed, but like the doctors said, she still had a slight limp. That was never going to change. Neither would her undying love for the young man sitting opposite her at the kitchen table, watching her, his eyes worried.

"Why didn't Kelly give it to me?" she asked, looking down at the envelope addressed to Elena Gilbert from an inmate at Richmond Department of Correction.

"She wanted me to decide whether or not to give it to you."

She looked down at the letter, back at him. _Tell me what to do, Damon._

"Do you want a minute?"

"No!" she said quickly.

"Okay," he said, just as fast. Then he sighed. "You want to go down to the lake? Dad just got a couple of jet skis."

"Jet skis?"

"One of his clients is moving overseas, sold them to Dad real cheap." He started bouncing in his seat. "They are all down there playing."

"And you want to play?"

He nodded, his smile widened, the letter now forgotten. "So bad."

"Okay, let's go play."

"Good," he said, standing up. "I got you something." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom, where he pointed to a bag sitting in the middle of the bed.

Elena rushed to see what was inside, and when she did, her heart dropped. "Damon." She lifted the bikini. "What is this?"

"It is what you are wearing today."

She shook her head. "I can't wear this."

"Why?"

"I will scare everyone with my scars."

He shrugged. "Don't wear it for everyone, babe. Wear it for me." And Elena knew it was not about the bikini, or the scars, or the fact that people would see them. It was about her confidence, about how he wanted her to see herself the way he did.

He loved her, wanted her, emotional and physical scars and all.

She put on the bikini.

He told her she was beautiful.

She believed him.

Damon was right. Everyone was at the lake. Giuseppe, John, Jules, Zach, Krystal, Sarah and Stefan were there. Damon said, motioning to an unused jet ski, "You want to go for a ride?"

Elena frowned.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said, offering his hand. So she took it, followed him to the end of the dock where they had their first date, and he helped her on, got on after her. She held his waist tight as he started the motor. "Do you know what you are doing?" she asked.

"This isn't my first rodeo."

"When have you done this before?"

He turned to her, smirked, "Dude, I totally vacay in Malibu, like, every summer, brother."

He was imitating Mason.

Elena laughed into his back, and a moment later they were moving, and she was screaming and the wind and the noise and the speed and the bumps and the waves and the twists and the turns. "I think I'm going to puke!"

"Damn!" Damon slowed the jet ski but it just made it worse, and so she told him to go faster. He did. "Close your eyes," he yelled. So she did. And it was different like this. All she felt was the sun on her flesh and the wind on her face and Damon's skin against hers. She rested her cheek on his back and held him tighter. "You okay?" he shouted.

"Perfect."

Damon got them safely back to the dock where Stefan was waiting for his turn. As soon as their feet hit the ground, Damon said, "You are, like, totally the worst passenger I have ever had, darling."

Elena pushed him into the lake.

Stefan asked, "Did you puke?"

"Almost."

Stefan hopped on the jet ski, waited for Damon to climb back on the dock before starting the engine. Damon said, "I don't like Mean Elena."

She reached up, swung her arm around his neck and pulled his face to hers. She kissed his mouth, tasted the lake water on his lips. Then she kissed down his neck, to his collarbone. "Don't get me hard in front of my family," he begged.

She pushed her breasts into his chest.

He moaned. "Naughty Elena."

She laughed. "I like being naughty and mean Elena."

Damon rolled his eyes.

As the sun began to set, John and Stefan build a fire while Giuseppe and Zach went back to the house to get food supplies. Elena and Damon were sitting in a lounge chair, looked up at the sky. "I hope we are having hot dogs," Sarah said.

Damon chuckled. "Hot dogs for dinner? Seriously?"

Sarah giggled. "Why not?"

Damon shook his head. "You need to quit hanging out with Stefan."

Stefan shouted, "What's wrong with me?"

Both Damon and Elena laughed.

Giuseppe and Zach returned with bags of groceries and a giant cooler. "Beers and wine for Damon and Elena. Soda for everyone else."

"Oh man!" Sarah complained.

"I'm old enough to have alcohol, too," Stefan scowled.

They ate their food around the campfire, and Zach cracked a few jokes. Everyone burst out laughing. When they were done eating, Damon took Elena's hand, led her back to the lounge chair a few yards away. He put his arms around her, and he looked at the stars. "That's my mum." He pointed to the sky. "Right there."

Elena kissed his cheek.

He asked, "You think she ever imagined that we would be together?"

"She hoped," she told him. "She told me so in the letter she left me."

Silence fell between them while she listened to Sarah arguing with Stefan. Even though they liked to argue, Elena knew Stefan cared a lot about Sarah.

She leaned up, smiled down at Damon. She kept her voice low, their conversation just for them. "Are you going to miss this when you finally go to University?"

He sat up, forcing her to do the same. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose, but he didn't speak.

She whispered, "Every time I bring it up, you deflect. Why?"

"It is just not great timing. You know that as much as I do. Your leg is good, but it is not great. And we both know you won't keep up with the rehab exercises if I'm not around."

"So you are going to defer again? Because of me?"

He didn't respond.

"It is a great excuse, but it is not the truth."

His eyes finally met her.

"I know you, Damon!" She kept her voice low, bit back her frustration. "God, it is like you don't even want to go."

His shoulders tense, and he looked away.

"Wait." She made him faced her. "Is that it? Do you not want to?"

His eyes held hers for a long time, searching. Finally, he sighed. "What do you want me to say? No. I don't want to go to college. I have never wanted to. It wasn't until you brought it up that I even thought about it."

Her jaw dropped. "But…the scholarship. You worked so hard for it."

"Stefan wants to go to college," he whispered, glancing at his brothers. "I got the scholarship to help my father out, but it doesn't mean anything to me. What the hell am I going to do there? Earn a hundred-thousand-dollar degree that means nothing in the real world? And running a decent time in a hundred-meter sprint isn't a career. At least not for me. I wanted to go for you. That was the only reason."

Elena shook her head, disbelief washing through her. "I'm so confused right now."

"Sweetheart." He settled his hands on her waist, brought her closer to him. "I need you to listen to me."

She nodded.

"If you want to go—if your heart is set on it, then that's what you will do. And we will do it together. I had money saved that my mother left me, and I have pretty much saved every cent I have earned since I have started working. I have enough for your first year and with Kelly's pull there, you can go."

"But that is your money." Elena looked up, prayed her tears wouldn't fall, and continued to speak in hushed tones. "And what about us?"

"I need to stay here. I need to work so I can start saving for your second year—"

"I don't want us to be apart, Damon. Is that what you want?"

He sighed. "I have already spoken to one of Dad's business associates. The Warden Group just started a company near the university, and I can work there. It is a forty-minute drive if we stay at my apartment near campus. I will work, you study. But, Elena, we would have to kick the tenants out, we would have to cover the mortgage and utilities, and that's all stuff I don't have to worry about here."

"But if you stay here, we won't be together."

"I will drive down every Friday night. I will stay with you on campus all weekend, and I will make up for the five nights of not having you. I promise."

"You planned all of this without me?"

"I didn't want you to worry about it."

Behind her, their families laughed.

Elena dropped her gaze, wiped her eyes.

"Hey," he whispered and lifted her chin with his finger. "All I want in this entire world is for you to be happy. And this whole college thing—it is not a decision we have to make right now. You have been through so much lately…" He hugged her tight, kissed the top of her head. "Take some time, take a break, a breath, just enjoy life for a while."

She pulled back, looked up at him. "If you didn't want to go to college, then what was your plan?"

Damon scooted back and spread his legs. "Come here," he said, shifting her body so she was sitting in front of him. They watched their families around the campfire, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer to him. He said, "Even if I made it through college and got some random degree, I still would have ended up here, working with my old man, with yours. This is my family's legacy, Elena, and I'm the first son. It was never pushed on me to take over the business, but it is what I have always wanted." He kissed her shoulder. "I get to wear the Salvatore name every day, and I get to wear it with pride. I get to make people happy, give people a place to make moments and memories, and I get to do it all while being close to my family."

Elena exhaled slowly, taking in everything he was saying, word for word, and she found herself smiling.

"Look around us," he said. So she did. She looked at her father, his girlfriend, looked and listened to the joy that only the Salvatores could bring. She looked at the lake, at the house in the distance, at the perfect night sky. A stillness fell, at the same time a weight lifted. She turned in his arms, and saw the conflict in his eyes. "How do I give this up, Elena?"

"You don't," she whispered.

He shook his head. "But I want us to work. More than anything."

"Damon, we don't give this up."

He blinked. "What are you saying?"

She pulled out of his hold and fished for the letter that had been burning a hole in her bag. Then she stood up, tugged on his hand for him to do the same. "Come on," she said, leading him to the campfire. Conversation stopped when she stood in the middle of the circle, Damon next to her. She dropped the letter in the fire, watched it burn, inch by inch.

"What was that?" John asked.

"The scars of my past."


	41. Epilogue

_Year 2017_

The baby cried and Elena rocked him in her arms. "It is okay," she smiled at the baby. "Daddy will be back soon."

Stefan loaded up Giuseppe's truck with the last of his belongings and made his way over to Damon and Elena. He stroke the baby's cheek. "I think I will miss you the most, Little Salvatore."

Joseph Salvatore was born two days after they celebrated Elena's twenty-ninth birthday. Elena would never forget the day when she found out she was pregnant. She walked out of the medical centre, and suppressed the absurd urge to throw out her arms and twirl around on the sidewalk. Turning her face up to the sky, she stood, letting the autumn breeze caress her skin, smiling up at the clouds. "Thank you," she whispered.

It had taken nearly a year after she married Damon to hear the words she had finally heard today: "Congratulations, Mrs Salvatore. You are pregnant."

On an impulse she crossed the street and bought a fistful of roses from a florist shop, and then she walked down the block to where Sarah was waiting with the car, surprising her by arriving from a different direction. She opened the door herself and slid into the passenger seat.

Sarah looked at her. "What did the doc say?"

Elena looked at her, her face glowing with wonder and awe. And she smiled.

A broad answering grin split Sarah's face. "Damon is going be one happy man!"

Elena smiled at Stefan after handing the baby to Giuseppe. "I will miss you," she said, and Damon could tell she was crying.

"I will be back," Stefan assured. "And Richmond is not far away. You can always come and visit. I expect you to."

Stefan had worked his ass off junior and senior year and got into University of Virginia medical school, and they couldn't be prouder of him. He was now a physician at the Emergency Department at Richmond Hospital.

"I'm so proud of you," Elena said.

"It was all those reading sessions in the playground that got me here."

"Shut up," she cried, and Damon held her, let her cry into his T-shirt because if he didn't, she would drown in a sea of her tears.

Stefan looked at Damon. "Thanks for everything."

"I didn't do anything," Damon told his brother. "This was all you."

Stefan shrugged. "You were my role model, Damon." He smirked. "My favourite big brother."

"I bet everyone say that to their big brothers."

Stefan shook his head and hugged Damon.

"Come on, brother, you are a big boy now," Damon said, pulling back before reaching out to take the baby back in his arms.

They watched Giuseppe and Stefan got in the truck, waved a final goodbye before they were off. When they left, Damon looked down at the baby boy that Elena had brought into the world.

Joseph opened his eyes just then and started to cry. With a tender smile Damon touched his finger to his soft cheek. "Shhh, darling," he whispered. "Don't cry. Boys are supposed to be tough. Ask your mummy," he suggested.

He quieted and after a moment he grinned at Damon and gurgled something that sounded profound. "I knew it!" Damon said, grinning back at his son. "Uncle Stefan has been teaching you medical terms, hasn't he?"

Then he looked up, to his beautiful wife who was now the top real estate agent in Mystic Falls. She had been working in the field for the last ten years. She helped Giuseppe and Damon find properties to buy and flip, and she sold them. She loved her job, almost as much as he loved her.

Damon sighed, happy and content with his life…until…

Until she kicked his shin and pointed a finger in his face. "Are you cheating on me?"

"What?!"

"Are you?"

"No!" he gasped. "What the hell, Elena?"

She crossed her arms, breathes through her nose. Crazy Elena. "Yesterday you left your lunch at home and I went to the site to bring it to you, and the guys said you hadn't been there in over a week!"

Damn.

"Where the hell have you been?" she screamed.

"Elena, calm down! You are scaring the baby!"

She did the opposite. "Oh, my God! Did you cheat on me when I was pregnant?"

He shook his head, laughed loudly. "Babe. Don't be ridiculous."

"Are you in love with her?" she yelled.

"There is no her!" He yelled back, trying so damn hard to keep it together. "Are you insane?"

"Where have you been, Damon?"

"Baby is falling asleep," he said. "I will put him back in his crib."

Elena was in the living room when he returned.

"Where have you been, Damon?" she asked again.

He sighed. "You don't give up, do you?"

"No."

He tried to come up with a lie. Quickly. But he couldn't. So he crossed his arms, lifted his chin, reverted to the age they first met. "I'm not telling!"

"You will so," she grinded out.

"Will not."

"Will so."

"Will not!"

And then she looked at him with those eyes filled with tears, and those lips now trembling, and she whimpered, and he felt like an asshole. "Baby, I'm not cheating on you."

"So why won't you tell me?"

"Because it was supposed to be a surprise."

She frowned. "That you are seeing another woman?"

"Stop," he said through a chuckle, hugging her to him. "There is no other woman and there never will be. You know you are the one for me, Elena Gilbert." He rubbed her back. "Wait for me by my truck, okay? I'm going to get the keys. Just don't leave me. Please?"

"What about the baby?"

"We can leave him with the nanny for a while."

She nodded.

He ran into the room, quickly grabbed the keys, and ran back out. Then he unlocked the truck, helped her into the seat. As soon as he was behind the wheel, she asked him again. "Where are we going?"

He started the engine, headed towards the same place he had been going to for the past week without her knowledge.

"Where are we going?" she asked again.

"Remember our first date? When you kept asking questions, and I told you to stop?"

"Yes."

"Stop."

They didn't leave the property, but they went as far out as they could get. Damon parked at a clearing on the edge of the lake that up until two weeks ago was covered in trees and bushes. Then he got out, opened her door for her. "Are we still on your property?"

"Just," he told her, helping her down. "I'm going to do that cute thing where I come in from behind and cover your eyes, okay?"

"Okay."

He stood behind her, covered her eyes. They were still wet from her tears, but he ignored them, knowing it wouldn't last long. He walked her through the yard, onto the concrete slab, told her when to take a longer or higher step and when to duck. Then he let her go. "Open your eyes," he told her, and she did.

"The lake?" she asked. "I have seen the lake before."

"No." Damon laughed. "Look down and around you."

Elena looked down at the concrete slab, then the beginning of the outer frame of a house. She turned to him, her eyebrows drawn. "You are building a house here?"

"I'm building our house here."

Her gasp was soft, those eyes widened. "Our house?"

Damon nodded. "It is far enough away from the main house that we will have our privacy, and I got a permit to build a driveway to the street so we don't need to come in through the main gates. It's three bedrooms, two baths, office and craft room—"

"Damon," she cut in, turning to him. "You are building me a house?"

He nodded again.

Her mouth parted, but she didn't speak. And those eyes, those eyes were staring at him, disbelief and shock and then glee and shock and then, "You are building me a house!" she repeated. "And there is a craft room?" She reached for him and Damon took her in his arms. She whispered, "My heart…it's…I think I need to sit down." She was crying now, her tears of pain replaced with tears of joy.

He released her just long enough to grab the cooler from what would one day be the bathroom. He set it next to her, helped her sit. She covered her mouth, her eyes locked on his. She was shaking her head, laughing, crying, laughing some more. "I can't believe you are doing this."

Damon motioned for her to move over so he could sit on the cooler with her. She melted into him, and he held her close, looked out at the lake.

"You are building me a house," Elena said as she took his hands. "With these two hands—you are building me a house. Why?"

He shrugged, too overwhelmed by her reaction to speak.

"You have to take care of me, don't you?"

He looked back at her, nodded slowly, and he told her, his voice cracking with emotion, "I nearly lost you once, Elena. I'm not going through that again. Now we are married and you give me a son. I'm going to take care of you for the rest of our lives."

She cupped his face, rested her forehead on his. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

"It is so beautiful out here," she said, and she had no idea that she was the beauty out here.

Damon reared back, kissed her hands. "I love it here. I want my children to grow up here. I want us to grow old here together."

"It is perfect," Elena said, looking around them.

"The house is small, but we can always extend. I think it is a good place to start," he said with a smile. "We should have more children. Maybe three or four."

"Four?" She laughed.

"You know I'm competitive."

"Oh God," she said, her smile widened when she looked out at the lake. Her hands shook as she covered her mouth. "I can't believe this."

He picked her up, settled her on his lap, absent-mindedly massaged her knee. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. "So what do you think, Elena Gilbert?" he asked. "You picture yourself living here with me, having children and growing old? Loving each other right?" He kissed her temple. "It may not be the stuff dreams are made of. It is a simple life…but a good life."

"No, Damon," she said. "It is a great life."

 _THE END_

* * *

 **"Eight Seconds" has finally come to an end. It has been an amazing journey writing this story. I didn't expect this story will cause such a huge emotional reaction at the start...but I'm still very glad that most of my readers have enjoyed this story as much as I do. As promised, this is a happy Delena ending:) I like happy ending, LOL!  
**

 **I'm still figuring what I should write...work has been busy lately but I promise I will come up with the next idea as soon as I can. Be patient and watch the space;)**

 **Once again, thank you for everything!**


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